


IMMORTALS

by abrighteyedbandit



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternative Werewolf Lore, Angelic Lore, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Bullying, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Closure, Dark Magic, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family History, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hybrids, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Mythology References, New Orleans, Organized Crime, Origin Story, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Mythology, Other, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Soulmates, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Pre-Relationship, Psychological Drama, Revelations, Revenge, Romantic Soulmates, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Spirits, Supernatural Factions, Team as Family, Teenage Drama, Transformation, True Love, Witch Curses, Witches, magic baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 233,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrighteyedbandit/pseuds/abrighteyedbandit
Summary: It's been four months since the Kindred were defeated and New Orleans was saved. Although Freya has settled back into her role as protector she is quietly dealing with the aftermath of her imprisonment while Keelin works hard to connect with Jordan on a deeper level. As they try desperately to maintain their value of family, despite their opposing views, unforeseen obstacles shake the very foundation they've built and threaten to tear apart the fabric of their lives.





	1. L'Enfant Terrible

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm back...sorta. Since the last story things have come up, life has been busy, and unfortunately I can have some of the worst luck. But while I'm still recovering I couldn't help but post this first chapter because 1) I'm a very impatient person and 2) You guys totally deserve it after being so patient while enduring the wait. As of now I'm not sure when the next post will be but I hope it won't be too bad since these will obviously be longer chapters (city setting with multiple characters and storylines at once). So about the story. As you can see from the premise there's some drama between Freelin and also separate things they're concerned with individually. It's always meant to work towards something in the bigger picture so bear with me. There's a bit of distance between them these first few chapters and you'll see why but they do work through it. Bridget and Rebekah are in a more honeymoon phase in comparison but they also have their own issues early on as well. I'm just going to say right now that nobody has it all together romantically tbh except for Josh haha. A LOT happens in this story that I don't want to completely spoil and you might end up hating me so I'm nervous lol. But hopefully you'll continue to trust in the emotional journey. The scheming and the drama is on right off the bat so I hope you guys are ready. So with that I'll leave you to the reading. As always I really hope you like it!
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) MAYKA - Rich: Veda's party; Rebekah parties at a club with a friend.
> 
> 2) Old Sea Brigade - Tidal Waves (Acoustic Version): Jordan looks through her family's things and Keelin comes to check on her.
> 
> 3) Jacob Banks - Unholy War: Marcel comes to arrest Veda at Freya's shop; Sharon comes into the Round Table meeting late and hungover.
> 
> 4) Azusena - Shiva: Bridget wakes up and reunites with Rebekah.
> 
> 5) Unions - Rescue Me: Freya and Marcel investigate the scene of the crime; JD visits Veda.
> 
> 6) JT Roach - Symmetry: Bridget and Rebekah arrive at the secret Allentown cabin.
> 
> 7) machineheart - Speak In Tongues: Bridget and Rebekah chain the wolves up.
> 
> 8) Grace VanderWaal - Darkness Keeps Chasing Me: Keelin finds Jordan by the river and they talk.
> 
> 9) Martin Luke Brown - Shadow & Light: Freya and Veda arrive at the compound.
> 
> 10) Heather Jayne - If The Stars Align: Bridget and Rebekah arrive at the Warehouse District loft.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

Jordan stirs as consciousness permeates her aching body. Wearily fighting the exhaustion, she lifts her head up and adjusts her eyes to the darkness, slowly noting the weight on her right arm. The blustering sound of bass heavy music throws her into full awareness and within moments the body in her hold is rising as well. “Don’t worry,” Jordan states, gazing at Mikaela. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Can I come too?”

Jordan tilts her head softly at her protective little cousin but silently agrees with a short nod. “Just stay behind me okay,” she directs. After Mikaela signals her understanding with a nod of her own head Jordan slips out of bed to lead the way. The pair exit the room and step out onto the third-floor balcony, quickly discovering the wild affair down below. In the courtyard bodies are packed to compacity while swaying to the music underneath flashing lights. On the second floor Veda emerges from a bedroom in a wine-colored silk dress with a high slit. Two attractive men with unbuttoned shirts soon follow her over to the railing to spectate the party. As the witch fixes her medium length hair, curling due to the heat of her previous activities, she senses the presence of two powerful hybrids and instinctively peers up at them.

“I’m sorry little birds. Did they wake you?”

Jordan and Mikaela stare at the woman blankly causing her to smirk with undeniable pleasure. On the first floor an annoyed Keelin pushes through the crowd with Freya in tow, weary expression planted on her features. The former looks up to spot Veda watching over them in her lavish attire and instantly fumes at the sight. “What the hell,” she projects as her irises shift to an aggressive gold. Veda tries to stifle a grin while gripping the railing and Freya bites her lip nervously.

* * *

 

On the dancefloor Rebekah chuckles drunkenly as a beautiful brunette spins her around playfully. The bright colors of the nightclub highlight their forms as they bask in the atmosphere of uncompromised freedom. Without prompting a tall brown-haired man slips in behind the brunette and slides his hands down her exposed ribcage to grab onto her hips. After sharing a knowing smirk with her companion Rebekah allows the woman to pull her, along with the man, away from the dancefloor.

The trio enter the VIP section and plop down on the leather wrap-around couch. The man makes himself comfortable by positioning his arm behind the brunette but quirks an eyebrow as she scoots closer to the blonde. With excitement he watches the former woman sweep her wavy locks aside to allow her friend access. However, he is unprepared for the revelation of Rebekah’s true nature when she sinks her fangs into the willing clubgoer. Frightened, the stranger shoots up to leave but is forced back down to his seated position by the bodyguard to his right. Rebekah wipes her lip and bites into her hand allowing her blood to spill into a glass of alcohol that the brunette picks up to drink from.

“You’ve been bothering my dear friend here for weeks now, haven’t you? She has informed me of your uncanny ability to appear even in her most private moments, and let’s not forget the presumptuous advances. Perhaps it’s time for you to take a hint.”

“I’ll stop! I’ll leave her alone, whatever you want!”

“Relax, love. I have no such plans of murdering you on a brilliant night out,” Rebekah claims indifferently. The brown-haired man breathes out heavily, somewhat relieved until the vampire speaks up once more. “But then again the matter is not really up to me. Leyla?” The brunette to her right turns to scrutinize the fearful stalker. “Well…I’m not ready to pack up just yet either. But how can I be so sure that he’s really sorry,” she ponders, feigning uncertainty.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’m so sorry. You won’t ever have to see me or worry about me ever again. I swear, just please let me go.”

Rebekah smirks deviously at the panicking man until an alarm suddenly rings out. Liquid begins raining down from the ceiling causing various occupants to hiss at their burning skin. The brown-haired man snatches the opportunity to run away when Rebekah and the bodyguard also flinch at the harmful substance. “Rebekah,” Leyla breathes, quickly fixing her eyes to the blonde.

“Vervain. We have to go now,” the vampire asserts. The brunette nods in understanding and grasps her companion’s hand while standing up. Together the two women hurry through the nightclub as discomposure envelopes the crowd. Upon stepping out onto the sidewalk Rebekah speeds them away to a safe distance.

* * *

 

The pair swim around in their respective thoughts as they make good use of the comfortable silence. The slightly chilly air has Leyla huddling with Rebekah and cursing her decision to show off some skin as they calmly stroll along, arms hooked together. “Between the poor bottle service, creepers lurking, and growing vampire problem you’d think that they’d just shut the place down already,” Leyla speaks up.

“What? And give up all the mind-numbingly bad electronic ruckus, audaciously sweaty dancing, and maudlin stories of lost love told by drunken fools,” Rebekah chimes. “Exactly,” the younger woman quips. Soft laughter fills the air before they both peer down at their moving feet. “Hard to believe that this is considered top tier.” Brown eyes find their way to darkened blue ones in a second.

“Well, even the rich and powerful enjoy a bit of simply unabashed fun. Perhaps it makes them feel more human. For a little while anyway.”

“Does it work for you? I mean there has to be a reason why you choose to stay here when you can go anywhere in the world after all. Personally, I could go for a warm destination, soaking up some sun for a nice tan. You know other than my natural one and more like something money can buy.”

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you right away,” Rebekah retorts, earning a chuckle from her friend. “But in all honesty, I’m not really sure anymore. What is even the point of trying to feel human when at every turn there’s yet another reminder of just how far removed I am from that.” Leyla nudges the blonde’s shoulder with her own. “Hey. So, you had a bad night amplified by your vampire emotions. But Rebekah you’re the one in control here alright? You can have whatever you want whenever you want it and that’s the real thrill. What you are makes me more curious about what possessing all that power would mean for someone like me.” Rebekah halts their trek and swiftly turns to address the younger woman.

“Don’t be so misguided, Leyla. Maybe it’s my own fault for leading you astray into temptation but you have to understand this. You have to understand that this, what I have, is merely a vile curse that was forced onto me as a doe-eyed girl. By the selfish will of my own mother and father _this_ is what I am. But you…you have the gift of choosing for yourself and that is not something that you should ever take for granted. You have the pleasure of finding yourself, exploring the world each day with new meaning where I do not. You have the opportunity to live out your days with true purpose and die alongside the ones that you love instead of wandering the earth for eternity, alone. These high-profile parties that you attend are unforgettable moments of your life where they are a mundane and meaningless routine for my own. Each day they only become that much more insignificant and lacking in substance because they are always promised. No soul should have forever to reconcile. So, if not from your own good sense, take it from an original vampire carrying a thousand years’ worth of experience in the misfortune department. It is not worth the strife to be immortal.”   

Leyla examines the serious expression challenging her while taking in the passionate admission. “Wow,” she finally breathes. “You make it sound like a plague. I guess I’ve been so busy mulling over the sickness of humanity that I hadn’t considered the hardship of something else. It was ignorant of me and I’m really sorry for that, Rebekah.” The older woman offers a small smile in response.

“My vampirism is nothing that I haven’t grown accustomed to, love. So, don’t you worry about a thing. It’s already forgotten.”

“Well,” Leyla replies, grasping Rebekah’s hand. “As your awesome friend I say let’s lighten things up a little. I’m sure that once we get a few more drinks going at your place I will be in the perfect condition to figure out something that you haven’t experienced in all this time.” Rebekah offers a genuine smile at the thought. “Sounds like a downright fanciful task but I am an advocate for the optimism of humans,” she remarks, summoning a grin from her companion. Their quiet stroll resumes until they opt to cut through a sparsely lit alley. A quick rustling sound infiltrates Rebekah’s ear just before a number of shadows stalk towards the pair. When their movement is suddenly stalled Leyla eyes the alert blonde with concern.

“What’s wrong, Rebekah,” she questions. Purely focused blue orbs bore into worried brown ones in response. “You’ve enjoyed your time partying but now you’re ready to check in for the night and find solace in the safety of your own home. You will forget everything about me, save for the word of advice as you sleep in to your heart’s content tomorrow,” Rebekah compels. The brunette stares at her blankly as men and women loiter around the alleyway. “Run along now, darling. It’s obviously time for me to teach a few wankers a vital lesson.”

Leyla obeys the compulsion by sprinting away and Rebekah turns to face the strangers hissing at her with threatening eyes. “Now. Should I even bother to question the absurdity of your presence here?” Two of the vampires quickly move on the original in a blur of speed. “I guess not.” Without effort she plunges her hands into each of their chests to yank out their hearts. Two more race towards her prompting her to throw the bloody organs in her hands down as she rushes forward to break their necks. Another assailant jumps down from the building above, but Rebekah catches him before throwing his body into an oncoming trio. Smirking at the successful takedown the blonde speeds forward to rip through more of the group until an invisible force throws her into the side of the building. Using all of her might, and ignoring the crushing of her ribs, she struggles against the brick wall.

“Debilito de lamia,” a short woman chants passionately, shaking an old rattle. While holding up a charm with a snake pendant she glares at her target with fierce grey eyes. Rebekah winces at the harsh grip weakening her body gradually as Bridget materializes out of nowhere. Noting the severity of the situation, the pureblood quickly retrieves a handful of tiny wolf figurines from the pocket of her backpack. “Disperdam totum,” she intones, crushing the objects in her palm. All of the remaining vampires fall to the ground as their bodies snap and twist to become lifeless husks, eventually set ablaze. Turning her attention to the vehement witch Bridget narrows her eyes in concentration while curling her fingers. The assailant screams out in pain as blood seeps from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears until she finally collapses on the ground among the other burning bodies. Rebekah is instantly released and drops down to her knees before peering up slowly to find Bridget standing several feet away.

“Bridget,” she breathes out, smiling in surprise.

However, as soon as Rebekah is met with that radiant smile in return the rush of butterflies in her stomach overpower her astonishment. So, she climbs to her feet and hurries over to Bridget who’s also striding to meet her halfway. But before they can reach each other the witch’s charming expression fades as she suddenly loses balance, threatening to collapse. Rebekah’s own glee disappears as she quickly registers the situation. Without hesitation she rockets forward just in time to catch Bridget’s unconscious body in her arms. Bringing them down to rest for a moment she cradles the pureblood while gently supporting her lulled head.

“Bridget, can you hear me? Bridget?”

* * *

 

The strumming of an acoustic guitar reverberates within Jordan’s head as she rummages in a medium sized cardboard box. A pile of photographs spill over and obscure her view of the other items prompting her to gather them up. Holding them in her hands she begins sifting through them one by one, tilting her head at the bittersweet memories. One’s an evening at the park. She easily recalls the picnics she used to have with her parents there. They would spend hours kicking a soccer ball around until topping their day off by watching the sunset. Jordan gazes at the picture of her and Daryl laughing in the large field for a few more seconds before placing it on the bottom of the stack.

The next one is an image of herself in a pool, arms folded on the edge with her chin perched on them. She can’t recall the exact day this took place, but her mind is suddenly flooded with memories of swimming until her arms and legs gave out. Her parents had gotten her acquainted with the water at the tender age of three and it quickly became her favorite pastime until she reached her teens.

Jordan tucks the photo behind the rest to uncover a loving moment underneath. In the picture Tanya is wrapping her arms around her as she sits in between her legs, happily accepting the smooch her mother places on her cheek. No doubt the memory took place on a Saturday morning where her father could get his fill of candid photos. He was a huge fan of them citing that capturing the seemingly ordinary moments meant keeping the most meaningful things in life close to your heart. She used to tease him about this belief being too “Hallmark-ish” but these past few months have proved just how right he was all along.

With a sigh Jordan shuffles the pictures before carefully placing them back into the box of mementos. Instinctively she lifts the wedding band dangling from the chain around her neck to hold in between her pointer finger and thumb. Ever since Sharon had given it to her she had opted to keep it close to her heart at all times. It was the last remnant of her parents that held a promise of love, commitment, loyalty. And although they weren’t able to keep that promise to each other in the conventional sense she knows that in their hearts they could’ve never broken that pact. After all her mother’s heart literally gave out upon losing her soulmate. She quietly wonders if love like that is meant to exist in a world like this: full of hatred, unbearable pain, and opposition to everything good.

She dismally allows the jewelry to slip through her fingers, coming to rest against her collarbone. A narrow beam of sunlight directs her vision to the sterling silver necklace occupying the cardboard box. Against her better judgment she reaches for the charm and dangles it while inspecting the vibrant garnet stone. It was yet another keepsake given to her by Sharon months ago. Apparently, her father had kept it with him every second of every day for sixteen years. He had even died with it in his possession all because it belonged to Lucy, her biological mother. Shaking her head at the thought Jordan drops it back into the box in favor of grabbing her digital camera. While fiddling with the DSLR she zones out in focus until a knock on her door panel alerts her to a visitor. Peering up she finds Keelin standing in the threshold and promptly removes her earphones.

“Good morning. I just wanted to see if you were up for breakfast,” the wolf explains, smiling.

“Isn’t everyone gone by now?”

Keelin crosses the open barrier to enter the dimly lit bedroom. “Yup, they are,” she confirms with a short nod. “I…was actually thinking that we could eat out somewhere. Just us two if that’s okay.” Jordan bites her lip in slight hesitation causing Keelin to mirror her almost perfectly. Though it isn’t the strangest request in the world the teenager suddenly feels uncertain about the offer.

Since learning of her true heritage as a hybrid, a Malraux wolf, things haven’t been easy to say the least. Losing the people that she believed to be her biological parents was already a devastating blow to take in but accepting the potent lie of her purely witch status only made the process that much harder. She was grateful for the support of her long-lost family, but the kind emergency doctor ultimately became an irrational source of her anxiety. Despite all the comfort Keelin provides her with she’s still the walking reminder of the part of her that was suppressed and buried in shame.

“Okay,” she finally answers. “It might take a little while for me to get ready though. I wasn’t expecting to be going anywhere.” Keelin offers a warm grin, internally sighing in relief. “There’s no rush so take your time. I know all about the hair situation trust me.” She stretches one of her wild curls out as evidence and earns a half grin from the teenager but easily notices her weariness. Dropping her hand to her thigh she licks her lips with purpose. “So, I’ll just be downstairs whenever you’re ready okay?” Jordan nods accordingly and Keelin musters a small smile before turning to exit the bedroom.

* * *

 

“There. That should be enough to get you through the week. Just remember to apply some twice a day and…your friend will be healed and cleansed in no time.”

A raven-haired woman smiles at Freya appreciatively while accepting the small green vile. “Thank you so much. Your remedies have really been a godsend,” the customer praises. Freya grins proudly while resting her hand on the polished store counter. “Well, I’m just trying to live up to my wife’s standards. She _is_ the one leading by example if I’m being honest here,” she retorts. The customer nods while biting her lip. “I see. Looks like I should be thanking her as well then. I mean at least someone around here has a positive influence. Maybe now my ill-behaved best friend will finally get that pissing off hostile witches is not exactly the way to go.”

“So, your friend. She’s pretty out there huh?”

“Oh, don’t be too kind. She’s a full-on enfant terrible and she knows it. The better question is…what does that make me by putting up with it and bailing her out all the time?” Freya bites her lip causing the younger woman to smile. “She has a reputation that precedes her, we’re all full aware of it here. But I don’t have to condone it to love her.”

“Sounds a lot like me and my family.”

“So, you get my predicament.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

The customer offers a small smile in response. “Well…thanks again. Although I have a feeling that I’ll be back in no time to see my Bourbon Street savior,” she foresees, releasing a short chuckle. Freya joins in causing the woman to grin with success. “Until then,” she replies. “Until then. Bye,” the charming woman parts, lifting up the vile. Emerald eyes follow the retreating visitor as she exits the shop doors, disappearing from sight. Just outside a tall woman with a flowing ponytail comes into view, seemingly passing the shop by before suddenly halting her stride. A breath instantly hitches in Freya’s throat and she can feel her pulse quickening. Her brain commands her to look away, to hide before she’s spotted but she finds her body unable to move. Despite the terrifying anticipation she spectates the character standing still in her own place as other pedestrians walk around her. The tense body language of her balled up first, stiff shoulders, and shaking head are all things the Viking can’t ignore.   

**_"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think that you've lost your touch. Maybe the fight has finally left you or maybe you've just gone soft."_ **

**_Freya peers up at the projection, gritting her teeth. "Maybe I just don't want this to be overkill," she proffers, smirking. The Viking throws out a hand sending her opponent flying back into a large tree and readies her spear before charging forward. The latter gains her bearings and anticipates the assault by jabbing her own weapon into the former's thigh. Freya recoils a bit but wills her spear to block a second thrust for her leg by moving back. Another shot aimed high at her head is parried before she steps forward to stab the illusion's hand and impale her through the eye. Her enemy stumbles back in shock looking at her with a single bulging eye before morphing into Imani. Freya parts her own lips at the discovery and hurries to catch the woman as she drops to the forest floor._ **

**_"No," she utters, shaking her head. The mortally wounded contestant fails to respond as the last ounce of consciousness retreats from her body. "Imani," Freya whispers, tilting her head while cradling the newly deceased witch. The pair become enveloped in a deafening silence as only the occasion whistle of wind keeps them company. Licking her lips, the Viking peers up at the dismal sky to hamper the burgeoning tears that threaten to freefall._ **

“That witch is madly in love with you.”

The sound of the jazzy voice effectively dissolves the violent memory. Focusing her vision Freya notices that the subject of her distress is nowhere to be found within the steady stream of civilians. _You’re safe, you’re okay_. Veda saunters up from the back of the shop to stand in front of the counter and Freya shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. “You seem to think that anyone who looks at me for longer than two seconds is,” the latter remarks.

“Because it’s true of course. You’re gorgeous, statuesque, powerful. Only a blind, uncultured fool would fail to notice that. And that is why I’m starting to suspect that this troublemaking friend of hers is merely an excuse to see you ever so often. Poor girl, fantasizing about you crushing herbs for her sake,” the former quips, tilting her head.

“She’s not fantasizing about me. She’s just a loyal customer, which I appreciate by the way. It’s been nice helping people, being useful.”

“Nonsense. You’ve always been a prize, a gift too extraordinary to deny. Instilling confidence and pride into your girls is enough to keep me occupied these days. Must I do the same unto you, little bird?” Freya tilts her head with a neutral expression inciting a sly smirk from Veda. “Or…is this about your previous admission? The one about living up to the _standards_ of your beloved other half?”

“Veda.” 

“She has an advantage you know? In our time there were no buzzing contraptions and oddly realistic projections to make so many things possible. Only the unbreakable power of respected witches was worth praise of course.”

“You’re being an elitist, again.”

“I’m not an elitist just for stating the truth. Creativity is in our very bones and the possibilities are endless. But I must admit that a werewolf healing humanity is one possibility that I never saw coming to fruition.”

Freya folds her arms to her chest, slightly tilting her head in disapproval. “I don’t appreciate the subtle snark directed at my soulmate, Veda. And neither does she _which_ is why you got absolutely nowhere with her last night,” she chides. “What? She is a healer that happens to be a wolf is she not? And you know that I adore your little precious despite our differences. After all she did give you the beautiful littlest gift,” Veda states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, that you wanted to take for yourself.”

Veda pulls back at the unexpected remark. “I’m sorry,” she questions, eyebrows furrowed. Freya shakes her head with a heavy sigh as her companion watches intently. “It’s nothing,” she claims. “I officially lifted that curse as a true start to making amends and proving my loyalty to you. I’ve done that and brought you knowledge, whatever you’ve asked of me. So it is in my heart to tell you that it was never my intention to destroy your family. I couldn’t have foreseen where your fate would end up,” Veda affirms. Freya shakes her head again and looks up into vulnerable eyes.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Alright, I hope you had your fun last night because it officially ends today.”

Freya and Veda both redirect their gaze to Marcel bursting in through the doors with a few vampires in tow. “Oh, well isn’t it fang city’s finest. Are you here to browse for a love potion? Your obsession with policing those leagues above you suggests one too many lonely nights at ‘Maison de Gerard’.” Marcel grins at the sassy brunette with amusement. “Well it’s too bad you couldn’t change that for me during your little stint as the Hellcat of the Quarter. You’re under arrest on the grounds of illegally producing poison, selling it, which by the way my guys had to clear out from the neighborhood, and finally the conspiracy to harm the Vampire Faction,” he announces. A shocked Freya moves from around the counter to stand beside Veda.

“What,” she questions, eyes widening.

“Your friend here poisoned a bar full of vampires, in my territory.”

“I’ve done no such thing and I don’t appreciate this ludicrous accusation. Where is the proof of this crime that you speak of,” Veda requests, raising her chin in defiance. “Don’t act so surprised. You should know by now that I’m always down for good intel. And what I learned is that the poison was created by a brand of magic never seen here in all of New Orleans before you showed up. The Attaché confirmed that it’s very old school and foreign which are two things that easily describe you. I think the fair conclusion is that you’re the culprit. So, when I say that you’re coming with me, I’m not asking,” Marcel declares firmly. With apprehension, Freya and Veda stare at the determined representative before fixing their eyes to each other.  

* * *

 

The three faction leaders talk amongst each other as Sharon, wearing sunglasses, quietly drags herself into the meeting room. The chattering stops, and all eyes fall on her sluggish form approaching the reserved seat. “Glad you could make it in today, your highness. We were just talking about last night’s bold move of today’s infamous prisoner,” Paige informs. “Prisoner? What happened last night,” Sharon inquires, gripping the back of her chair in confusion. The representatives gaze at her in slight disbelief. “Miss Bordeaux didn’t inform you of last night’s events,” Stuart asks slowly.

“Of course not. That would imply that she actually cares about not making me look completely useless here.” The room goes quiet save for the Human Faction leader clearing his throat. “Guys, it was a joke. I still make those from time to time. Although Kayla did neglect to tell me about whatever transpired in the Quarter last night. So please enlighten me.”

“How about I do the honors,” Marcel volunteers. “Last night several vampires were assassinated while simply enjoying a drink at their favorite spot. Now I take this personally because my people have established treaties with all of you, and with each other. That took a lot of hard work to accomplish coming into this thing. So, imagine how I feel about the one responsible being close knit with the Mikaelsons.”

Sharon furrows her eyebrows at the information. “Who was the perp, Marcel,” she questions. “You know, tall, dark, and seductive with no moral compass whatsoever. He’s talking about Freya Mikaelson’s partying comrade, Veda.” The General Consul redirects her darkened gaze to the Werewolf Faction leader. “I find that hard to believe considering that Freya Mikaelson promised to keep her under control,” she remarks. Marcel lets out a humorless breath. “Wow you two must have gotten pretty tight if you really believe that she has anything under control here. This witch, Veda is dangerous alright? It was her curse from centuries ago that almost snatched Freya’s daughter who was just three years old at the time. She managed to do that from beyond the grave just to be clear. They might’ve gotten past it but that doesn’t make her any less of a threat to this city. So, I’m requesting an execution to answer the crime committed against my people,” he states straightforwardly.

Sharon grabs her forehead while silently mulling over the details for a moment. “And you have evidence to support your claim, a confession,” she finally inquires, sighing. “I have both actually. Just ask Kayla,” Marcel confirms. “Well, then I’m inclined to back your decision,” the consul sighs out, dropping her hand from her head. “Your request seems fair enough, but I still have to look over these things first.”

“With the shades on?”

Sharon tilts her head at the vampire with little amusement just as Kayla saunters into the meeting. “Freya wants a word with you,” the Attaché whispers into her superior’s ear. “Can it wait? I’ve already shown up late to this meeting like a basket case. And I also had no clue about what the hell is going on thanks to you,” the consul accuses. Her right-hand easily shrugs off the pointed finger.

“No, it can’t. And it’s now urgent considering you just kinda agreed to execute the witch that she’s here for remember?” 

“Fine,” Sharon breathes out in exasperation. “Just take over the meeting while I go let her down gently okay? Think you can handle that?” Kayla presents a sarcastic smile for her irritable boss. “Seeing as I handle just about everything else in your life these days, yes. I’ve got it. But hurry up because she’s freaking out, Sharon,” she notifies sympathetically. “Yeah, I figured.” Without wasting another moment Sharon turns to address the representatives.

“Excuse me everyone but something else apparently demands my attention. Kayla is taking over so feel free to pile all of your other concerns onto her.”

Swiftly, Sharon moves past the younger witch to exit the room. Upon arriving in the hallway, she immediately finds Freya sitting on a bench while subtly bouncing her knee. “You wanted to speak with me?” The Viking snaps her head towards the leader and instantly rises to her feet prompting the latter to walk over to her. “I know that Marcel wants her dead. So, I’m asking you not to allow that.”

“I gave you guardianship of a girl that you barely knew over people that have known her for her entire life. I choose not to run your family out of town despite the bad luck associated with your last name. I even allow you to rehabilitate an impulsive ancient witch who was unwittingly resurrected by the zealots currently living in a snow globe. Do you see how this is yet another big ask of me, Freya?”

Freya knits her fingers together while licking her lips. “To be fair this city was practically founded on bad luck. And as for the Kindred, they’re currently residing in a crystal ball, not a snow globe,” she retorts spurring Sharon to remove her sunglasses in disbelief. “Look, I know what she did was wrong and she’s not above the law but honestly she doesn’t know any better.”

A hearty scoff fills the air. “I’m insulted that you’re really trying to use this trope on me right now,” Sharon states, folding her arms. “It’s true, think about it. Veda might have caught on quickly to what she identifies as the ‘culture’ now but what she truly knows is an entirely different system. That poison that she sold was the same thing that was normal for her to showcase as a merchant in her time. It didn’t make her responsible for what the buyer chose to do with it after.”

“And now you’re giving me a history lesson that doesn’t apply to the current state of things. Give me a break here, Freya.”

“Sharon, she’s been here for a few months compared to living in her time for almost three decades. I’m just asking you to give _her_ a break.”

The consul shakes her head at the ridiculous request. “Well, I don’t know what you expect me to do about this. I can’t just rewrite the rules especially when it comes to murder. Wrong is wrong. And where do you even get off on asking that of me? Just because you’re going to outlive me doesn’t mean that I’m just going to roll over now and let you bail your family out every time they get into some mess,” she affirms. “I’ve already outlived you by centuries which is how I can attest to this situation. All I’m asking for is a little empathy here. She’s still adjusting to the world as we know it,” Freya reclaims, unwavering.

“I have to do my job,” Sharon sighs out. “That includes punishing people in the wrong, Freya. I really am sorry that this time it’s your friend, but it is what it is. I can arrange for you to have some time with her beforehand but that’s all. As for now I have a heavy workload to get back to so please respect that.” She turns to walk away but Freya quickly grabs her wrist on reflex. “We’re not that different you know,” the latter professes. The former spins around to look into fierce green eyes. “Yes, yes we are very different Freya,” she counters tiredly. “On the surface yeah but fundamentally no because we share one huge thing in common. We both had mothers that couldn’t protect us. They chose not to protect us, and we suffered from that until somebody else found us worthy.”

Sharon quirks an eyebrow in response and Freya liberates a deep breath. “I know all about your history with Lo.” The younger woman laughs mirthlessly while shaking her head. “I highly doubt that,” she throws back. “I know enough to understand what she meant to you,” the Viking asserts, staring into weary pools of honey. “In your eyes she was special because she did what your own mother failed to do. She gave you comfort, affection, hope for something better and that’s why it was hard for you to let her go. It was hard for you then and it still is now.” Sharon glares at her defensively.

“Really? You’re going to manipulate me into giving you what you want? Aren’t you supposed to be above this,” she questions, annoyed.

“I’m not above anything when it comes to protecting the people I care about. Veda means to me what Lo was to you. And you’re a good person, Sharon. All the things you’ve done for my family are undeniable which leads me to believe that who you are won’t allow you to just stop now. I know that you would never wish an ounce of the pain you’re experiencing now on anyone so here’s your chance to show that.” Freya comes closer with an unshakeable stance. “Please don’t do this to the friend that I care about. Don’t sentence her to death.” Sharon blinks at her a few times before looking away in thought, fixing her jaw.

“Even if Veda could miraculously get out of this alive,” she sighs out, looking up into hopeful eyes. “I would still have to make sure that someone gets punished for the crime when it’s all said and done.” Freya rapidly nods in understanding while biting her lip. “I can find out who’s behind the poisoning if you let me speak to her,” she assures. “Marcel claims to already have her confession so how you’ll pull this off is beyond me,” Sharon replies. “Veda didn’t set out to murder those vampires therefore it can’t be pinned on her. She only owned up to manufacturing the poison and selling it, not targeting people or doing the dirty work. Marcel is clearly only going after a witch to have his way,” Freya asserts. Sharon shakes her head before offering a reluctant sigh.

“Fine. I will allow you five minutes with her okay? And if you find me a viable suspect or legitimate proof then I will make sure that she receives a nonfatal punishment. Think of it as a reprieve for now,” she states.

Freya happily nods and gives the leader’s wrist a squeeze before releasing her. “Thank you. I’ll find something by the end of the day. You have my word,” she proclaims. “Considering the lengths you’re willing to go to, I really hope so for your sake. I can’t hold off on handling it forever. Right now she’s the only person connected to the crime, Freya. And in my experience overlooking the bad doesn’t end well for anyone no matter how much you want to hold onto hope.” The blonde stares at the doleful brunette gazing back at her with a serious expression.

* * *

 

“Looks like I’m the only hope for getting you out of here alive. So I need you to tell me everything. Who bought the poison from you?”

“Well, the transaction was maybe a week ago. I was indulging in an abundance of red wine at the time, so I can’t say for sure. But if my memory serves me any the buyer was a very handsome and charming man from out of town. He claimed that the poison was for an old friend of his,” Veda recalls, gazing at Freya from behind metal bars.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been manning an illegal operation without keeping any sort of record of distribution,” the blonde questions dubiously.

“Forgive me for not questioning every single client of mine. Truthfully, it’s only been a means to fund my social affairs. I never planned to succumb to greed like the ill-fated characters in those high-tension shows. Speaking of which, is this the part where I’m supposed to inquire of a lawyer?”

Emerald eyes roll at the slightly facetious question. “No. What you’re going to need is all of my willpower and more than a little luck but I’m going to get you out of here. First, I just need to figure out how to do that of course.” Veda offers a confident grin in response. “I know that you will rise to the occasion, little bird. Perseverance is in your bones remember?” Freya gives her a half smile before sighing out. “Just don’t cause any more trouble while I’m gone okay? Managing a reprieve for you was hard enough even with a personal connection to the Queen of New Orleans,” she states seriously.

“Of course. Not much trouble to find myself in with these now is there?” Veda lifts her arms to display the shackles clutching her wrists. “I have no choice but to be on my very best behavior until you return.” Freya bites her lip before slightly tilting her head. “Save it for your prison guard. I’ve learned not to underestimate you remember? I’ll be back soon.” Veda eases back into the space of her cell with a smirk signaling Freya to leave. After passing the guard the Viking strides down the long hallway until she reaches the entrance. However, as she steps out into the bright sunlight she finds none other than Marcel waiting for her with his arms folded across his chest.

“You’re ruining my justice, even though you know that it’s wrong. You’re ruining justice for my people who did nothing to deserve what they got,” he expresses.

“I’m protecting my family.”

Marcel tilts his head, unimpressed by the perpetual excuse. “It’s always for family when it comes to you huh? Well my people are my family and I won’t let your friend get away with what she’s done to them,” he proclaims. “You’re wasting my time,” Freya remarks, shaking her head. “We’ve never seen eye to eye and I know exactly where you stand, Marcel. Still that’s never going to change where my loyalty lies. So if you’d excuse me I have a suspect to track down.” Ignoring the dark eyes narrowed at her the witch continues on her mission until the vampire speeds over to grab her arm. On instinct she wills her telekinesis to send him colliding into the brick wall behind them. He grunts out at the unanticipated force while she tilts her head at him.

“Don’t ever touch me again if you know what’s good for you. Oh, and stay out of my way while you’re at it.”

Marcel smirks at the Mikaelson while tilting his own head. “Thanks to your little heart to heart with Sharon I have all the time in the world. A ‘standard meeting adjourned’ is what she called it. So let’s get something straight alright? I don’t care if you’re planning on waving a magical wand around. You’re not getting out of my sight that easily,” he declares with finality. The aggressive rivals hold an intense, fiery gaze.

* * *

 

Bridget stirs and grasps her head while rising from the fluffy pillow supporting her body. The dull ache in her skull is intensified by the angelic glow of the sunlight, prompting her to take a few moments to adjust. Opening her eyes she scans her surroundings to discover a familiar setting. The white walls, tan carpet, and matching sectional sofa. The cream-colored curtains pulled back to keep the New York City skyline on full display. She slips out of bed carefully and pads over to the large window, silently admiring the view of the Upper East Side. Visions of her brief but meaningful time spent here automatically rush to the surface.

There were the afternoon strolls in the park watching the street musicians play and the occasional guerrilla theater shows. Or the nights spent indoors cozied up on the couch watching movies from various decades. Rebekah had eventually converted her into a Golden Era enthusiast, while she had shown the vampire a plethora of cult classics from the eighties and nineties. Afterwards they’d have conversations about the films spanning anywhere from thought provoking to downright ridiculous. The latter was partly caused by their growing tendency to make out in place of actually paying attention.

Some nights she would stretch out on the living room couch, head in Rebekah’s lap as she admired the blonde shamelessly reading mystery novels. Other nights she would play a song or two on her guitar after being egged on by her enthusiastic companion. Initially she had revealed her hidden talent during one of their many wine filled nights where it was meant to stay a surprising admission. However after Rebekah had begged her, for what seemed like an eternity, for a proper demonstration she had finally given in to settle the dispute. Completely blown away by the secret songstress the Mikaelson declared that she was to perform every night she visited the penthouse.

But currently the most memorable moment settling into her thoughts is the night they solidified what they wanted. They were both occupying this room, Bridget perched on the bed and Rebekah standing by the window, when they had finally worked up the nerve to voice their shared desire. In true ridiculous fashion they each had attempted to propose a more formal date at the same time. After the laughter and realization of a mutual interest in dating exclusively wore off, Rebekah had insisted that she’d be the host of their newest landmark.     

“You had quite the potential for a nasty fall last night, but luckily I was there to catch you.”

Suddenly ripped from the bright memories Bridget spins around to find the woman occupying her mind standing in the doorway. The blonde is wearing a delighted grin and the witch’s own soft expression takes up residence at the inviting sight. “You brought me here and took care of me. I can remember you staying by my side throughout the night,” the latter recalls. Rebekah takes a few steps to enter the luminous bedroom.

“Of course. I recall how to treat your bothersome episodes. Keep you cool, keep you elevated. It’s simple enough and I’m hardly senile. Plus, where else would I have been when you’re in need?”

The couple stare at each other, Bridget chewing on her lip as Rebekah tilts her head in anticipation. In a flash they’re moving towards each other like magnets and quickly crashing their lips together in an explosive greeting. The witch cups the vampire’s cheeks as protective arms wrap around her body eagerly. The rest of the world seems to pass them by before they finally pull apart to embrace as if it’s their last day together. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Rebekah whispers. Bridget holds on tighter as the blonde burrows into her neck for a moment. Once they’re done hugging they search each other’s eyes in pure wonder. “How did you know that I had walked right into a bit of an unforeseen bind? I suppose that as a Mikaelson finding myself in hot water is inevitably life as I know it but still.”

“I don’t really have the time to explain since I’ve slept the entire night away, but apparently your capture is going for a very high bid on the supernatural black market. I’m starting to think that you actually like getting into trouble.”

“Come on, darling. You should very well know by now that trouble is my middle name. Also I’m flattered to be considered worth the torment of dying a horrible death.”    

“Yeah, well maybe it’s time to reconsider that. You wouldn’t happen to know where a brown backpack is around here would you?”

Rebekah nods accordingly. “Your things are in the living room. Forgive me for the invasion of privacy but I was compelled to investigate the strange smell emitting from it. So, I snuck the tiniest peek and I can honestly say that you’ve packed for some sort of questionable witchy vacation,” she quips. Bridget suddenly descends into faraway thoughts. “I’ve got to get to work,” she announces blankly. Without another word she steps around the vampire and strides out of the bedroom. Dropping her hands to her sides Rebekah frowns at how quickly their excitement has been quelled before following suit. When she saunters into the living space she finds the suddenly uninvolved witch removing items from her backpack and decides to halt in front of her.

“Am I missing something here? You don’t just kiss a girl like that and not follow up with a warm greeting. A simple ‘I’ve missed you’ or ‘Hey, it’s so good to see you after so long of being apart’ would’ve sufficed.”  

Bridget continues to set items down on the coffee table before glancing up at the confused blonde. “Hold that thought. There was a witch last night right? With the vampires that attacked you,” she inquires. Rebekah furrows her eyebrows at the question. “Precisely. You melted that poor woman’s insides within seconds if my recollection serves me well,” she confirms. Bridget’s face scrunches up at the brutal imagery. “Well no wonder I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Exerting so much energy at once clearly drained me,” she replies, rolling her neck. “So if there was in fact a witch here in New York with the vamp squad that means that they’ve been the ones tracking you.”

“Well, it’s certainly not the most unique predicament I’ve found myself in now is it? A gaggle of angry witches on my case for some sort of gain.”

“Nope and that’s exactly why I’m here obviously,” the pureblood chirps. She smooths her hands over the map on the table before closely scanning it. For a few moments Rebekah waits quietly before finally giving in to her unbearable insecurities. “Speaking of not so unique predicaments…I don’t suppose that now would be the appropriate time to ask why you haven’t been returning my calls lately.”

Bridget continues focusing on her work while hovering over the table. “Nope, no time for that unfortunately. I mean unless you want to be kidnapped in broad daylight now,” she remarks. An impatient Rebekah folds her arms and saddles up beside the witch, silently demanding her attention. “I’ve seen the evidence of you being quite the multitasking witch. So what is it? Did reuniting with the devil suddenly send your feelings right into oblivion? Or has your recent lack of response been your way of making a clean break?” With a tired sigh Bridget straightens up to meet Rebekah’s eyes.

“I’ve just been busy okay? And so have you up until recently remember? We didn’t even finish our only official date because of that and well, life got in the way.”

“I see. And yet somehow you weren’t too busy to check up on my black market status,” Rebekah muses on causing Bridget to tilt her head. “You know that I had to be sure that any and all threats against my family were simply the myths concocted by bored dimwits. There are people out there foolishly believing that we could be destroyed only after a few years of being apart. I wouldn’t have been anywhere else but with you if not for that.”

“Rebekah, we’re fine. Really. I understand why you had to leave for Europe and I would never ask you to ignore any threats against your family. Like I said life got in the way. It _has_ been three months since we’ve been in the same room after all.”

“Yes, it has been three long insufferable months of longing for home,” the Mikaelson admits. In response she earns a small smile from the pureblood that tugs at her own lips. “So what’s the plan now, boss?” Bridget licks her lips in thought before breathing out. “Let’s see, step one. Protecting you from a band of bounty hunters in the short term,” she states. “Well, that’s no problem here at all. I could take each and every one of those lesser images of me as they come,” Rebekah affirms. “Well those lesser images of you are looking to make a huge fortune off your capture. I’d imagine that a payday like that is enough motivation to get the job done,” Bridget throws back. “Either way I don’t suspect that the lot of them are prepared for my trusted secret weapon are they?”

Bridget grins widely at the vampire. “After last night it’s safe to say that they now have an idea of what they’re up against. So, once I find out where they’re all coming from I can choose the safest route back to New Orleans,” she concludes. “And who said that you could just whisk me away to your home on such short notice,” Rebekah queries, smirking. “Your good sense did, princess. As awesome as your Barbie penthouse is we can’t keep hiding in plain sight.”

“Well. I was never all that fond of the stuffy little city itself, but I suppose that I have no say in the matter.”

“To New Orleans we go,” Bridget sings, grabbing the sage.

* * *

 

Upbeat jazz music is the soundtrack to chattering patrons dining outdoors under the bright sun. Tucked away in a corner underneath a palm tree is the table lacking exuberant conversation. Keelin takes a sip of her coffee before clearing her throat as she gently sets her mug down. “Not that hungry huh?” Jordan peers up from her barely touched meal, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I guess not. Sorry,” she apologizes. Keelin automatically shakes her head in protest. “Don’t be. If anything my ego is officially secured. You won’t touch the crowned best pancakes in town, yet you’ve been eating my homecooking for months now,” she jests. Jordan musters a halfhearted smile causing the wolf to tilt her head before fixing her lips. “So…I have to admit that there was an ulterior motive for this little outing.”

“Yeah,” the teenager questions, straightening up in her chair.

“Yeah,” her aunt confirms, nodding.

“So…what is it?”

Keelin bites her lip as she focuses in on her uncertain niece. “Well, other than wanting to spend more time with you I just,” she pauses. “I just wanted to see how you were really doing. With you going back to school and everything tomorrow I just want to make sure that you feel safe, you know. I don’t know if you’re ready for the crowded environment, or if you’re okay with the responsibilities.” Jordan bites her lip while briefly looking down. “I’m okay with it,” she replies, nodding. “I mean I have to go back sometime don’t I?” Keelin nods accordingly. “Yeah. But you know that you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing just yet. My main priority is making sure that you’re alright, Jordan. And I will support you no matter what you choose. You can take some more time if that’s what you need to do,” she assures.

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. I want to go back to school. The new year has already started, and I don’t want to be too far behind. I already have less classes to worry about than everyone else so if I can’t even handle that then I’ll just tell you okay?” Keelin narrows in on the slight defensive tone. “Have you been writing in your journal,” she suddenly asks. Wide brown eyes stare back at her in disbelief.

“Is this about the therapist? You don’t want me to go back to school because she doesn’t think that I should,” Jordan infers. “I never said that,” Keelin replies. Her niece falls back into her patio chair with a huff. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to see her anymore. Why does she get to make all the decisions about _my_ life? All she does is ask me the same questions over and over when she already knows the answers. Meanwhile I’m supposed to just write down every thought and feeling that comes to mind until I magically feel better about everything,” she throws back, frustrated.

Keelin presses forward with an empathetic gaze. “Is it a bad thing to express yourself? Nobody’s saying that everything will magically get better but keeping it all bottled up inside won’t help you either, Jordan. I’m on your side here. You know that I’m always on your side.” Folding her arms the teenager looks away at some other nearby patrons. “Can we not talk about this anymore,” she requests. The werewolf tilts her head with disappointment.

“Jordan,” she tries.

“I’ve been writing okay,” the hybrid interrupts, looking into concerned eyes. “So you don’t have to worry. I just don’t want to talk about this anymore if that’s alright. Please. I’m fine.” Keelin gazes at her for a moment before respecting her wishes with a short nod. “Okay. I…wanted to pick up some things from the market. Are you up for that or should we just go home,” she asks carefully. “I’m up for it,” Jordan reassures, nodding. “We’re already here so there’s no point of you going out of your way.” Keelin nods in agreement as they both sit back in their seats.

* * *

 

“What is all this going to do?”

Surrounded by candles Freya readies herself in her cross-legged position on the floor. “Hopefully it will help me conjure a whole new universe where I can exist without you patrolling my every move,” she retorts with sass. Marcel halts his pacing around the empty bar space to eye her incredulously. Noting the sudden stillness the witch peers up at the anxious vampire with a sigh. “I’m doing a reading. There’s enough magical energy here to overwhelm my senses but with any luck I’ll be able to see who poisoned your people last night.”

After holding their gaze for a moment Marcel finally unfolds his arms. “Alright then. What are we waiting for? Let’s get to it,” he encourages, holding his chin. Freya redirects her view straight ahead before holding up her pinched fingers and closing her eyes in pure focus. “Ostende de reus. Ostende de reus. Ostende de reus,” she chants, breathing in fumes from the burning incense. Marcel zones in as the Viking suddenly pauses in a trance. “There’s laughter and jazz music, happiness. Cold drinks and a warm atmosphere.”

“What,” the Faction leader questions, confused. “There’s a waitress checking on every table with a wide smile on her face. Everyone is comfortable, so she decides to go sneak her own drink,” Freya narrates, eyes still closed. Marcel lifts his chin while listening carefully. “As she’s walking toward the counter a man suddenly stops her. He’s wearing a nice custom tailored suit. Dark but charming.”

In anticipation Marcel moves closer to the candlelit barrier. “Who is it,” he questions, growing impatient. The lines in Freya’s forehead creases as she pushes for a clearer image. “She asks him if he needs anything and he only smiles at her. Somehow it manages to be genuine but then…he removes a bottle from his jacket and offers it to her. He tells her to give every guest a special round.”

“I need you to tell me what you see. Who is it,” Marcel questions urgently.

Freya shakes her head, reaching into the vision with difficulty before finally giving up with a sigh. “He compelled her, so I managed a glimpse of his eyes. But that’s it, the vision wasn’t clear enough. I don’t know who it is,” she informs. “So, you’re telling me that you don’t know who it is but he’s definitely a vampire,” Marcel reiterates, eyes narrowed. Freya fixes her gaze to him, exhausted. “Yes. Your enemy is in fact a vampire and not a witch,” she reaffirms, earning a head shake from the unconvinced vampire.

“Nah, it can’t be. I’ve worked my ass off to establish unity among my people. They were just a rag-tag group of spoon-fed daywalkers and lost nightwalkers until I took up leadership.”

“Well, I’m telling you that the perpetrator compelled a waitress to lace the drinks of _your_ vampires with Veda’s poison. It’s clear that he’s not one of your pathetic minions and seeing as no one else was caught in the crossfire, there’s nothing else to be done here for me. I now have my proof to show Sharon along with Veda’s alibi.”

After blowing out the candles Freya climbs to her feet and prepares to take her leave. However, Marcel shakes his head before grabbing her arm to thwart her advancement. “Well, I could use that drive right about now so why don’t you stay,” he proposes, tilting his head. Green eyes narrow at him, uninterested. “You won. You got what you wanted but at the end of the day lives were lost here. Lives that I care about. Is it really that hard for you to see anything past your own family? Huh?” The Mikaelson frowns as she snatches out of his grasp.

“So what? Did you expect a little partnership out of following me here? Well that’s a shame because I don’t owe you anything, Marcel. In fact all you’ve been doing is causing _me_ problems. Or did you already forget that you arrested Veda for this in the first place? Now that you’ve seen firsthand just how mindless your actions are this is now _your_ problem to deal with on your own. I’m leaving.”

Marcel allows the determined blonde to push past him but turns in her direction with a sigh. “You’re right. You don’t owe me anything,” he confesses. Freya pauses and slowly spins around to acknowledge the leader. “Today has been all about you keeping family safe which leads me to believe that you can appreciate my need to protect this city that they reside in. All I want is a little bit of help here. I need to find whoever did this. So, what do you say?” Freya tilts her head while examining him closely. “I say that I’m sure you’re capable of solving your own problems. Either way my family is well protected and I don’t have the time to play detective for your justice. Seeing as my immediate concern is avoiding an unnecessary execution today I have to go,” she finalizes. Marcel looks away while shaking his head in frustration.

“But here’s another clue just because I’m not so cruel. Your mystery man possessed a powerful object that I’m assuming is the cause of what I feel here. There aren’t too many witches around the city just giving up antiques like that without asking for a hefty price. And certainly not to vampires so maybe start there,” Freya advises. The faction leader narrows his eyes at her in thought. “I’m not your true enemy here, Marcel. So I think it’s time that you focus your energy elsewhere if you really want to protect your people.”

* * *

 

The tapping of shoes on the polished floor disrupts Veda’s trance. Peering up from her spot on the small cot she notices a man in a dark suit watching her. His skin tone is a medium brown, youthful with no sign of imperfection etched into it, and adorned with thick eyebrows along with a fresh royale goatee. Through hooded dark eyes he continues to quietly examine the prisoner.  

“I’m sorry but are you lost,” Veda asks, discourteous.

The man instantly grins, revealing the defined dimples of his cheeks in the process. “Not anymore. Sure there was some bad hospitality before, but I managed to get my concerns sorted out in a reasonable manner. Your friend down the hall kindly showed me the way to your unforgettable face. But the question is, will the feeling be reciprocated. You do remember me don’t you sweetheart,” he inquires sweetly.

Veda scrutinizes him while rising from her seat. “You’re the one who requested my potion,” she concludes.  “Indeed I am.” The witch tilts her head in disbelief, narrowing her eyes at him. “Well you certainly have some nerve showing up here after condemning me to death. I’m currently awaiting such an outcome while chained up like a dog so now, would be the proper time to tell me who you are and what your gain is here.”

The well-dressed stranger slightly raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t jump to conclusions now. That’ll do you no good and you can trust me on that. The person that you’re truly angry with just so happens to be the same person I’m not so keen on at the moment,” he claims. Fixing her lips Veda stares at the man for a moment. “Marcel Gerard,” she surmises.

Her guest nods his head in confirmation. “Bingo, baby. I can see that the memories are still escaping you so allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is James David Walker, but you can call me JD. Everyone, including myself, used to prefer it that way,” he offers. Arching an eyebrow Veda angles her head, questioning the man. “Used to,” she repeats.

“Mhm,” JD confirms, smiling. “I’m afraid that I’ve been gone for a very long while. So, I figured it was about time I paid a visit to my favorite city in all the world.” Veda rolls her eyes and releases a huff of impatience. “So what exactly is your goal here then? I’m growing rather tired of the long-winded introduction. Magic suppressing chains and overly confident men tend to make me restless so excuse my slight vexation,” she states sarcastically. JD lifts his chin while nodding. “Of course. Well, simply put my goal is to take everything away from my dear old friend Marcel. To be even more frank about it I want to make him suffer while ruminating on his poor life choices. And most importantly I could use the help of a very capable and beautiful witch, such as yourself, to make that happen,” he replies.

Veda eases back into her stance while considering his words. “Truth be told I was never able to master the art of ignoring flattery from beautiful men,” she starts, gaining a look of pleasure from the vampire. “And how could I turn an ear away from a mention of my grace let alone my aptitude for true sorcery?” JD licks his lips, hopeful twinkle in his eye. “You tell me. I’m a little flustered at the thought of being beautiful in your eyes,” he throws back, modest. Veda offers an understated smirk in response.

“Your old friend Marcel has bedeviled me since I’ve been in this city I must say. For years before that he was a reoccurring nuisance to someone that I care about. So quite naturally the thought of punishing that stiff for locking me in here is more than appealing. Perhaps it’s even thrilling. Just so long as his head won’t be your newest acquisition,” she negotiates hypothetically.

JD gives a short nod of understanding. “Never. You see, death comes in many forms. And in my opinion the physical sense is the silly one to fear when you think about it. I must’ve died a hundred times by Marcel’s own will because he knew exactly what true suffering meant. What is a real death to mind, body, and soul? Eternal distress or eternal rest? Marcel presented this question to me and I found the answer out the hard way. The good news, however, is that I learned something. I’ve learned that letting him escape what he’s done, especially in death, would be going far too easy on him.” Veda lifts her chin while examining him with deeper interest.

“I see.”

* * *

 

Holding the door open with her foot Bridget allows Rebekah into the cabin first before kicking the door closed. The older woman roams her eyes over the very spacious living section complete with: a primarily wooden interior, a mounted flat screen tv, a stone fireplace, a simple dining area, a compact kitchen area, and a view of the calm lake outside. As her companion drops their belongings down on the tan sectional sofa she peers up at the indoor balcony above the kitchen.

“Where on bloody earth have you been hiding this place?”

“I guess it’s a secret clubhouse in a way. I bought it a few years ago because I liked the seclusion, but I’ve barely used it to be honest. I can’t even tell you the last time I was here.”

Rebekah spins around to catch Bridget’s gaze. “Well, that’s a shame. We could’ve turned this into a proper keggar house,” she quips. The pureblood pauses her search for items in the luggage. “You don’t really strike me as the outdoorsy type, princess. And this spot was meant to be a quiet place of peace, not a venue for booze filled nights in the woods,” she counters before returning to her rummaging. Rebekah tilts her head while inspecting her closely.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she offers, walking over to stand in front of the younger woman. “After all you’re the captain of this rescue mission. And might I say that you’ve given me quite the warm welcome despite the circumstances. A private flight to a cozy destination followed by a scenic drive to this quaint cabin of yours shrouded in secrecy. If we crack open a bottle of your best champagne and run a bubble bath it’s certainly the romantic weekend getaway.” Bridget peers up at her with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Yeah, well I’ll get started on lighting the candles for sexy cloaking time,” she retorts, lifting the item in emphasis. As she goes to leave the room a strong grip on her forearm tugs her back.

“Rebekah, I said not now.”       

“Bridget, I say that now is the perfect time. I didn’t come all this way with you just to be ignored and quite frankly the mixed signals that you’re giving me are frustrating. So tell me the truth of the matter. What is it?”

“The truth is that I’m sparing us both,” Bridget imparts, sighing. Rebekah tilts her head in silent question prompting further explanation. “Rebekah, that month I spent taking on New York with you was the most genuine fun I’ve had in a long time. Just your company was enough to make me feel at ease, at home even. I was really happy just existing with you.” At the sudden influx of joyous memories shuffling through her mind a soft smile sweeps across the original’s lips. “But these last few months we’ve been apart has reminded me that we could never have that in full with our reality. Everything was so sparkly and wondrous when all we had to focus on was each other, but we won’t have that luxury in New Orleans. I see Freya almost every day so trust me when I say that the guilt has gotten to me. We just can’t have this relationship anywhere when she’s between us.”

“Funny. I don’t recall ever inviting my sister into the bed we’ve made.” Bridget rolls her eyes at the remark before Rebekah steps into her personal space, gently cradling her cheeks. “I’m not about to repeat history by letting yet another neurotic sibling of mine dictate who I can and cannot care for. Especially when the impending disapproval is not for certain in this case.”

“Well I certainly don’t think that she’ll be over the moon about you seeing me, the genetically defective witch that screwed half of this town to avoid caring for anyone, Rebekah. And let’s be honest she forgave but never truly forgot about the unlikely triangle we once found ourselves in with Keelin. I literally paid for that with my life.”

“Let’s not neglect the fact that at the time she was suffering from the bite of that awful Adze creature. It’s an important detail not to miss you know.”

Bridget flits her incredulous eyes up to the ceiling for a moment. “Okay, I know that I never had the guardian big sister looking out for me, but I do know what that looks like. Being the protector is all that Freya knows and this, _us_ being a thing is not going to sit well with her. I can just feel it. She knows just about all of my flaws, my past. We may be best friends but you’re her blood, Rebekah. I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that and I really _really_ don’t wanna lose what has become my family okay,” she expresses, heartfelt.  

“And yet you took the risk by owning up to your true feelings for me. Every moment that we’ve spent together since then has only shown just how committed to that truth you are. All I’m asking of you now is to not taint that with the lie of sparing us both of heartache and loss,” Rebekah pleads, eyes sparkling.

“There’s no going back on compromising family, Rebekah.”

“If this, making each other undeniably happy, means compromising things after all we’ve sacrificed in the name of family, what do we truly have?”

The debating couple search each other’s eyes before leaning forward to meld together in sudden bliss. Bridget tilts her head slightly to deepen the kiss while gripping Rebekah’s hips. Inhaling sharply she backs the vampire into the sofa, nearly losing herself to the moment. A warm hand grasps the nape of her neck to diminish what little space remains between them and suddenly her wake-up call sounds off. Their lips detach with short smack and after a few seconds Bridget opens her eyes to find Rebekah frowning at her in confusion.

“I have to get started on cloaking you before those witches find us,” the former maintains. She’s wordlessly released from the arms around her shoulders. “The vampires may not be able to set foot on this soil but best believe the brains of the operation will. And we have to get back to New Orleans as soon as possible.”

“Do what you have to do. I’m going to indulge in a bath since this will obviously take a while,” Rebekah utters plainly.

Bridget lowers her head with a sigh as the blonde steps around her to leave the quiet space. After shaking the distracting feelings off the pureblood moves to seek out the necessary items. Upon entering the simple master bedroom she walks over to the designated closet but finds nothing inside. Redirecting over to the bedside drawer she pulls both compartments, one by one, open to discover nothing but empty space. “Where are you, emergency magic supplies?” A thought suddenly pops into her mind and she straightens up to quickly exit the space. Within moments she reaches her destination but comes to a screeching halt as she notices the unmade bed, piles of clothing, and clutter of beer bottles. “What the hell,” she utters in surprise.

Meanwhile in the bathroom Rebekah glides a hand through the warm water filling the tub. Instead of fetching her change of clothes she decides on staying in her current position and staring into the pool of frothy water. A low growl infiltrates her ear and immediately causes her shoulders to stiffen. Waiting patiently she opts to spin around and race to the doorway in one swift motion just as a large black wolf leaps into the tub, denting the wall. The predator whips around and powers forward to tackle Rebekah who derails the assault by kicking it in the nose. As the wolf crashes into the wall a few more of them slowly ease into the room from the outdoor balcony. Rebekah snaps her head around, carefully scanning the area and discovering three more coming from behind. “Bridget,” she calls while extending her hands at the aggressive creatures, signaling them to keep their distance.

An invisible wave forces the wolves down to the floor and the vampire relaxes with a sigh as her companion strides into the room. “Manufesto verus forma,” Bridget intones, passing the blonde. While standing over one of the attackers she drops her extended hand but still clutches the talisman around her neck with the other. Gradually, the wolves littering the space shapeshift into unconscious human bodies. Rebekah comes to saddle up beside the witch examining the strangers.

“Weekend getaway ruined,” she jests plainly.

“Apparently they’ve been calling this place home. I found a lot of flannel and beer in the bedrooms,” Bridget informs.

Blue eyes focus on her as she crouches down to get a closer look at the trio of wolves near her feet. “Do you see that, the tattoo. They all have them in the same spot.” Rebekah lowers herself down beside the younger woman while inspecting the tribal style mountains and patterns wrapped around each of their biceps. “They apparently love their booze and sordid matching tattoos. What’s the significance,” she questions. Brown eyes stare at her pointedly. “They’re a pack that I’ve never seen before. Hayden hasn’t mentioned any new wolves in town either,” Bridget discloses. Rebekah stares back at her with curiosity.

* * *

 

After accepting the bag full of apples and bananas Keelin gives the old merchant a warm smile. “Thank you.” The grey-haired woman offers her own kind expression in return. “Enjoy your day and don’t hesitate to come see me again,” she replies. “Trust me when I say that I can’t find any apples half as good as the ones here,” the wolf assures. “Well thank you for letting me know that. Tough competition these days. But regardless I think I’m gonna take a little break in the shade now honey.”

Keelin chuckles and waves at the character as she leaves her post. On instinct her eyes seek out a certain hybrid in the area and within seconds she finds Jordan snapping pictures amongst the sea of shoppers. A soft smile settles onto her lips as she admires the way her niece seems to immerse herself in the action. She focuses in on her unsuspecting target and positions herself with expertise to catch the right moment of intrigue.

Across the way, Jordan lowers the camera from her vision before searching the market for a new subject. Her narrowed eyes spot an old paint-chipped sign on a building that instantly ignites her inspiration. Lifting the camera up to her eyeline she draws back slightly to frame the target but before she can capture it a force knocks the device right out of her grip. The camera collides with the ground causing the now shattered lens to resemble the cracked pavement. Jordan can almost feel the composure vacating her body at the horrifying sight.

“Hey, I’m sorry kid. I didn’t see you in the way.”

Jordan slowly peers up to find a tall, burly man looking down at her. “You’re the Jolly Green Giant compared to me. Are you serious right now,” she questions, agitated. “Excuse me,” the stranger responds, frowning. The curly-haired girl steps forward into his space. “You heard me,” she states firmly through gritted teeth. “You might as well have man-handled me how you’re walking around like you own the place. You broke my camera you asshole!”

The stocky man tilts his head with an incredulous chuckle. “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is today kid but if you go get your mommy I’ll pay for the camera. Problem solved,” he concludes. “I don’t want your money,” Jordan grunts, pushing him back with significant force. Appalled, the man gapes at her just as Keelin hurries in between them. “Hey, that’s enough. What’s going on here,” the wolf intervenes. Jordan tears her gaze away until two hands grasp her face, bringing her back to concerned chestnut eyes.

“Jordan, this is not how we deal with our issues. You can’t just lash out at the world, at innocent _people_.” With that remark the hybrid rips herself away from her cautious aunt. “He’s not innocent! Nobody on this planet is really innocent so what’s the point,” she yells out. Keelin ignores the newfound attention of a crowd and tries to block the girl from their intruding eyes.

“Jordan. You need to calm down okay sweetie? This isn’t you right now. You’re just really upset but we can handle it the right way,” she affirms softly. Jordan lets out a mirthless laugh.

“According to you this _is_ me since you don’t even want me to go back to school. You want me to stay locked up like the freak that I am, just admit it. I’m so broken and you don’t know how to fix me even though you fix people every day. That’s how you feel right? That’s what you believe? You smother me because there’s nothing else that you can do.” Speechless, Keelin pulls back a little as the teen shakes her head. “You can’t handle this, and you can’t handle me Keelin. So do yourself a favor and just stop trying.”

Noting the complete silence Jordan wipes at her teary eyes with the back of her arm and reaches down to gather her camera. Standing up, she begins to walk away while sniffling until Keelin loosely grabs her arm to stop her. “Jordan,” she tries, only to be denied. “Look, I’m not your baby or your sweetie or your anything. You’re not my mom so just let me go okay? Let me go,” the distressed girl demands. Without looking the wolf in the eyes Jordan snatches her arm away and hurries off through the crowd. Unable to move, Keelin stands there looking around at the chattering people before grasping her head with a labored sigh.

* * *

 

Rebekah tightens the chains around a red-haired woman before glancing over at Bridget tending to a slumbering man with a buzzcut. “It was quite nice of you to make them more presentable,” she remarks jokingly. “They’re in their underwear, Rebekah. Well each other’s most likely. I found what I could since I was more focused on gathering the chains,” the latter retorts, looking at her.

“Well, either way you chose the less mortifying route for them. Poor homely wolves waking up to witchy shenanigans in a drab Kentucky basement. Not a day back and you’re already giving the town something to talk about.”

“We can hear you, you bitch. And once I get out of these chains you’re through,” the redhead asserts. Rebekah promptly fixes her gaze to the werewolf. “Rebekah,” Bridget drawls in a warning tone. “I’m not going to hurt her if that’s what you’re thinking,” the blonde assures, gripping her hold on the chains. The prisoner winces at the rough action bruising her skin. “But someone sure has her knickers in a twist. Regardless, she should invest in some manners if she wants to continue on her little survival story. It would be a shame to recast a new Alpha midway through the remarkable tale.”

“Oh, you wish I was the Alpha,” the redhead throws back. Rebekah tilts her head in slight interest. “Well, don’t hold out on me now. You know us girls love to chitchat so enlighten me. If not the cross she-wolf in cheap lingerie then _who_ is the declared leader of the misfits,” she queries. The werewolf offers a sarcastic grin. “That would be, Zach. The guy currently checking out your friend here,” she answers, motioning her head.

Quirking an eyebrow Rebekah looks to Bridget who awkwardly turns to locate the curly-haired man propped up against the wall a few feet away. “I do like a woman that can get her hands dirty. The magic in her fingertips though, not so much,” the Alpha speaks up, grinning. “What a smooth talker with that chiseled jaw,” Bridget chirps, raising her eyebrows. Rebekah gazes at him in surprise.

“You diabolical bastard. Since gracing us with your presence you haven’t uttered a single word and now you’ve revealed yourself to be a fully functioning jackass,” she remarks. “Either speak two languages or none at all. It’s a great way to scope out the enemy,” Zach states, shrugging. “Well. Let’s just keep your interests purely invested in your pack Romeo,” Rebekah retorts, tilting her head with displeasure.

“Okay, if that’s what you want blondie,” a gruff voice pipes up.

Rebekah whips around to find Ryan entering the basement with his followers close behind. “And what the bloody hell is this? Some sort of meeting ground for wolves who annoy me,” she questions, exasperated. “I know this may be hard to hear but not everything is about you. I’m actually here to put down a rabid pack, maybe take some prisoners of war. I haven’t really decided yet,” the latter notifies.

“You don’t say. And what has this lot done to warrant your punishment,” Rebekah asks curiously. The Midtown Pack Alpha steps forward. “These guys call themselves the East Edge Pack. They prefer to alternate between their forms and they’ve been causing some trouble for me by moving into my territory. Apparently, they want out of the palisades and into civilization now,” he explains.

“So grant them a bloody plot of land to roam free on and call it a truce,” Rebekah suggests, furrowing her eyebrows.

Ryan shakes his head at her before folding his arms. “Of course you’d think it’d be that easy. Although I’m still a little bit surprised that you didn’t just suggest slaughtering them all onsite,” he remarks plainly. “Very funny. Well, do what you will with them. I’m not here to get involved in yet another town crisis. I was only passing through when your little friends burglarized this cabin and attacked me.”   

“Great. We’ll take it from here. Guys, round them up.”

His wolves move to follow the order as Zach makes eye contact with the red-haired woman. They both nod silently at each other before the Alpha forcefully kicks the Asian man next to him. Alarmed by the sudden assault the wolf jumps up with bright, golden eyes and whips his head at the approaching men. “My man Jason is a pretty nervous dude. But then again we all are,” the Alpha remarks, breaking his chains apart. “Dammit. I didn’t have enough for all of them, but I figured they would be too weak because of the spell,” Bridget informs, waving a hand to hold him against the wall.

The Midtown wolves ready their stance but Jason suddenly targets Rebekah before pouncing. Stepping in, Ryan swiftly grabs him by the arm and twists it, instantly causing him to yelp out in pain. “He must be the lovely new friend I made earlier,” Rebekah surmises, sarcastic. “I guess,” Ryan grunts, fracturing the wolf’s arm. “You just have that effect on people. Guys. Hurry up and grab the sleeping beauties before we have more of them getting out of hand. They’re strong ones.” His followers begin lifting unconscious bodies as Zach and the red-haired woman watch furiously. Before they can gather all of the prisoners the patio doors abruptly swing open. All eyes fall on three women marching towards the newly accessible basement.

“What the hell,” Rebekah and Ryan breathe simultaneously. Bridget moves ahead of them with purpose, gazing in the distance. “Remember those witches that I warned you about? Well, they’re here,” she announces. Clutching her fist she summons a protective barrier of fire that partly obscures them. “I have a feeling that it won’t hold them off for long so quick plan. Release the wolves.”

Ryan furrows his eyebrows in disbelief. “What? No way,” he instantly opposes. “Either that or you will likely die today. I don’t think you want your pack to be collateral too,” Bridget states, turning around to face him. The Alpha rearranges his jaw as the pureblood stares at him seriously. Rebekah looks between them before opting to unchain the female wolf nearby with a dramatic huff.

“I will gladly do the honors whilst you two waste time at each other’s throats,” she remarks, relinquishing her prisoner. “Now bugger off and act as bait.” The redhead swiftly slaps the vampire across the face earning a look of astonishment. “That’s for calling me a she-wolf. Do you call him a he-wolf? How patriarchal of you,” she chastises. “For God’s sake,” Rebekah mutters, stepping to her. Bridget quickly raises a hand to stop the blonde. “Hey, not now. Focus on the true problem at hand,” she directs. “Yeah, Tara. How about you help the others,” Zach proposes. “Fine,” the two rivals resign, displeased. Bridget and Zach share a short glance of understanding while Ryan shakes his head. “What exactly do you expect to come of this,” the latter asks the witch.

“I don’t know. Unity, peace, the end of world hunger. Or just a really good distraction if you guys play your parts.”

The aggrieved pack relinquishes their rivals before pushing them to the floor. “Happy now? They’re just going to run off like cowards,” Ryan asserts, frowning. Without notice Zach pins him to the wall ferociously. “I don’t think so,” he replies, eyes glowing. Ryan’s eyes shift into a bright gold soon after. “I was counting on the testosterone amplified by the raging wolf genes,” Bridget quips.

The barrier of fire is quelled by a strong breeze and the pureblood takes the cue to cross the threshold. In a blur of speed Rebekah moves past her to swiftly grab one of the witches, sinking her fangs into her neck. Before she can drain her enemy however she’s suddenly flung into a tree by the other two witches. They ignite a blazing ring of fire around the vampire fighting their telekinetic hold.

Fiercely, Bridget throws a hand down to force the injured witch to her knees. She begins approaching the assailant but is alerted to Rebekah’s pained cries. On instinct she pushes her power to incapacitate the witch in her clutches as a runaway wolf suddenly leaps onto the enemy. Turning away from the deadly maiming she hurries over to her other targets. One of them spots her and immediately conjures another blockade of flames. Focusing her magic Bridget summons a natural wind, strong enough to sway the trees but no match for the increasing flames. “Dammit,” she yells in frustration. The pureblood spins around in search of anything of use, quickly settling her eyes on the sparkling body of water nearby.

“The lake,” she utters.

A few wolves come running over to her but look on in confusion as she hurries in the other direction. After glancing at each other they move on towards the barrier, clearing it with a leap to pounce on the witches. With a nonchalant snap of her fingers one of the women instantly breaks a brunette’s neck. “No,” the muscular man beside her yells out. In a split second his body is thrown into the harsh flames while his companion is struck by powerful pain infliction. At the lake Bridget inhales carefully while holding out her hands. “Vocabo opprimo aquam,” she chants, exhaling. Her forehead wrinkles in concentration as the water begins shifting towards the lakeshore. When she feels confident in her control she motions her body towards the spreading flames willing the water onto land.

Powerful waves rush through the blazing barricade allowing Ryan and Zach entry. The two witches are caught off guard as the Alphas each snap their necks simultaneously. An exhausted Rebekah leans forward, clutching her knees before Bridget hastens over to inspect her closely. “Rebekah are you okay,” the latter questions, fussing over her. The former grins at the witch’s troubled features, endeared. “Despite being quite famished I will live,” she replies, earning a head shake. The pair share a small smile and the wolves look around at the charred wasteland. 

* * *

A small boat sails along the shining river as Jordan inspects her fractured lens and dented camera. The sweet inviting smell of peaches sneaks into her sense, instantly alerting her to an unsought presence. “How did you find me?” Keelin adjusts herself on the concrete steps before looking to the girl avoiding her gaze. “Well, as wolves we have a strong sense of family practically built in. It’s like this unexplainable feeling that pokes at you until you follow its guide.” Jordan peers up at her, unconvinced. “It’s true. Your scent helped of course but I was thinking about you and it brought me here.”

“Of course,” the teenager mutters. Sighing out, she resumes fiddling with the broken device in her hands. Keelin plants her eyes to it while biting her lip. “We can get you another one. Don’t worry,” she reassures. “My dad gave me this one,” Jordan blurts out. “Or my uncle, whatever.” She shakes her head prompting her aunt to scoot in closer.

“I get it. I know that you don’t think so, but I do. You lost the people that meant everything to you and in such a short span of time you’ve been trying to adjust to this strange new life without that. I can’t begin to understand all the changes you’ve gone through these past few months and I can never tell you how to feel about it all, but I do recognize how hard this is for you. Losing your family, gaining a new one, and learning about all the secrets. I just need you to know that I’m not trying to replace your parents, Jordan. And I swear that I don’t want to make things harder for you. I just want to help you in the best way that I can. I want to help you like so many people have helped me, people that eventually became what you now know as my family. I’m sorry if that comes off as smothering but I just really want to make things better for you. That’s all I want.”

Remorseful chestnut eyes peer up at the wolf. “I know,” Jordan affirms. “I didn’t mean to say that before, that I wasn’t anything to you. I didn’t mean to say any of it. I just…I don’t know.” She shakes her head and Keelin offers a sympathetic look. “Well I do. I was once your age you know. I had to deal with teenager things, family drama, my wolf temper. I understand that it’s a lot and at times it can feel like your whole world is crumbling at every turn. Sometimes you just need to get away.” Jordan silently nods to herself while peering down at her feet. “So…my personal go to is looking up at the stars, being reminded that…I’m not the only one out here in this great big universe. I’m not alone.” Keelin pauses, licking her lips as she gazes at the troubled girl. “What about yours? For someone as creative as you there had to have been some kind of escape.”

Jordan shrugs but takes a moment to think about the question. “Well…I used to ride the ferry back and forth with my dad. A lot of the time we’d talk about everything and anything, stupid things. But sometimes we didn’t have to talk at all. It was just…peaceful. He thought that it was nice to look at the world and think about life, so I did too,” she recounts sullenly. Keelin gives her a bittersweet smile.

“That’s why you came here huh,” she surmises.

Jordan looks down at the significant reminder of her father. “I guess so,” she replies. A few moments pass before Keelin rises to her feet, summoning a confused pair of eyes to gaze up at her. “Well, let’s go. You deserve to get away for a bit and I could use a nice look at the world. We don’t have to talk or do anything else at all. We can just take a few trips across the river. However many you want.” She extends a hand out to Jordan who eyes her with hesitation. But after some time the teenager finally accepts the invitation by outstretching a tentative hand. Keelin easily helps Jordan onto her feet and they stare at each other before pulling into a warm embrace. The former carefully holds her niece’s head as strong arms wrap around her back.

* * *

 

“How wonderful to be back at the fantastic palace of the fiercest witch in all of New Orleans,” Veda expresses, whimsical. She struts into the courtyard with Freya close behind, quirking an eyebrow. “That’s enough throwing me into all of your bragging. You’re going to have to live a more modest life now so why not start practicing alright?” The brunette spins around, wide grin plastered on her face, and saunters over to the Viking. “There’s no need to reprimand me any further. I’m a good witch after all. Isn’t that what you told Sharon? You’ve been rehabilitating me to great results.”

“You haven’t murdered anyone or enacted any curses lately so yes, for you these are particularly great results. But I’m serious about you staying out of trouble. Sharon is not always going to be there.”

“And neither will I. Problem solved.”

Freya tilts her head with a knowing look. “Veda,” she utters. “I won’t divulge in this mortal coil so don’t worry, little bird. Perhaps I’m still just a tad bit sensitive to the fact. The drunkard Queen just loves using it as a bullet point for her finger-wagging lectures,” Veda remarks, raising her chin. Freya shakes her head, sighing. “Let’s just worry about the here and now okay? Will you do that for me,” she requests, eyes pleading. Veda smirks before grasping her face.

“Whatever you ask of me is always granted. All you have to do is simply…ask,” she declares. A relieved smile overtakes Freya’s features as she holds onto one hand cupping her cheek. Veda leans in to place a chaste kiss upon her lips, earning an exaggerated cough from a newly materialized Keelin. Both women redirect their gaze to her in surprise. “It’s pretty late so I thought there were burglars down here,” the werewolf states, clearing her throat. “But it’s just you two, standing in the middle of the courtyard, making sacred promises to each other at two AM.”

Delighted by the disgruntled reaction Veda nods in short and relinquishes Freya. “Well. That’s my not so subtle cue to go help myself to your best bottle of wine.” Promptly, she strolls toward the kitchen, passing Keelin on the way. “Nice to see you, precious.” The shorter woman throws her a sarcastic smile before walking over to her wife. “She knows how much I hate that and yet…she keeps it up much to my never-ending dismay,” she rants, stopping in front of her.

Freya wraps her arms around the annoyed brunette while grinning. “That’s just her way of being friendly. Give her a break.” Her wife arches an eyebrow in utter disbelief. “Freya, she manufactured ancient poison that was potent enough to kill a bar full of old vampires. I think evading the death penalty, courtesy of her loyal _little bird_ is all the ‘catching a break’ she needs at this point,” she affirms.

“Hey, she wasn’t the one who used it against them. She was drunk when she sold it and had no way of knowing about that plan.”

“It was poison,” Keelin retorts, doubtful expression on her features. “There aren’t too many happy-go-lucky uses for it.”

“And…you’re right about that. But look, she’s still adjusting to everything. Her world, where she’s from was a whole lot different from here and now. Her culture was about survival and I understand that in more ways than one. She’s just trying to find her way in this new life of hers. All that matters now is that it all turned out to be a personal matter for Marcel and not a loss for our family.”

Keelin tilts her head, widening her eyes. “ _Our_ family huh,” she questions. Unamused, Freya tilts her own head in silent disapproval. Her significant other gives in with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, whatever. Your crazy adoptive mother is saved hooray,” she chimes, unenthusiastic. “Now that’s better. So, how was your day with Jordan,” Freya asks. “Honestly?” The Viking nods, signaling Keelin to update her. “Well…it went from shaky to bad to worse,” the werewolf admits. Green eyes look at her sympathetically. “But in the end I think we found some common ground. God, I hope we did.”

“Hey. Just like for Veda, it’s going to take awhile for Jordan to fully adjust to her new life. But the fact still remains that we’re her family and you are the one that she needs the most. So just give her some time alright? Perhaps returning to school will help bring back some of the normalcy for her.”

“Maybe,” Keelin replies, nodding. “I think I’m just gonna call it a night. I have a long work day ahead of me and luckily your daughter hasn’t fought me on going to bed for once. Coming up?” Freya nods in response. “In a little while. Despite her _sacred_ promises to me I suspect that Veda is conjuring up a loophole for her punishment as we speak. So…it’s up to me to set her on the straight and narrow path. Apparently, Sharon writing her rules in stone isn’t enough,” she sighs out.

Keelin rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness. “Whatever guarantees me a happy home and peaceful existence. Just don’t keep your awesome wife waiting too long. You know how much I need my favorite pillow,” she remarks. “Okay,” her soulmate agrees, moving in for a kiss. However, the wolf leans back slightly to dodge her attempt. “Uh uh. I’ve just witnessed the wicked witch of the desert laying a big wet one on you like a small child. So, how about you tell her to keep her lips to herself from now on, and then you can kiss me goodnight after you’ve rinsed your own lips like a thousand times,” she sings, smooching her cheek instead. Freya tilts her head at her wife, dissatisfied.

* * *

 

“And here we are,” Bridget announces, allowing Rebekah into her loft. “I let Freya know that you’ll be seeing her tomorrow so for tonight…this is your castle.” The vampire spins around as her host sets their bags down off to the side. “Why thank you, darling. I greatly appreciate the hospitality, and might I say what a lovely little bachelorette pad you have,” she states playfully.

“Don’t even think about suggesting some overly fancy décor, princess. It’s way too late to break out the color palettes alright? You can have my bed for the night and I’ll take the couch since I’m still picking out something for my spare room.”

After turning the hallway light on Bridget disappears from the living space. Rebekah’s curious eyes wander around the place illuminated by scented candles until they land on a large map of New York City. The guide is stretched out across the expanse of the glass coffee table and on top of it is a lone deer figurine. “So, I’m gathering that I’m the doe in distress of your eyes,” Rebekah projects.

Bridget returns to the room with a fleece blanket in hand. “Um…yeah. An always graceful and adventurous little doe with a penchant for stirring up trouble of course. It seemed like a fitting representation and it worked perfectly for the tracking spell. But don’t worry, I haven’t been keeping tabs on you for long. I just had to make sure that you were safe while I was investigating the whole black market situation. But anyway you should get some sleep. I’m definitely going to after all the supernatural antics today.” She tosses the blanket down on the couch and goes to leave again before a loose grip on her arm stops her.

“Is it too much to ask for us to stop this silent war of depriving ourselves of what we truly desire,” Rebekah questions, causing Bridget to tilt her head softly. “I want nothing more than to just exist in the same space as you, just as we did in New York.”

“We can’t. I told you that I can’t ruin things or let anyone get hurt.”

“And does that include yourself,” Rebekah asks, not missing a beat. Bridget gazes at her, unable to formulate words in her defense. “It’s okay to want something good. It’s not a crime to care about me and we’re not prisoners to some dark fate of losing all that we love because of that, Bridget. Regardless of what you may believe we’re not committing some unforgivable act of betrayal by simply being honest with ourselves. So stop bloody fighting this in all your stubborn glory because it will not make things easier. Just see me the way that I see you right now and forget about everything else for a moment. You don’t have to be the resident selfless savior when it’s only you and I here.”

Stillness envelopes the room as the pair hold a strong, longing gaze. Turning to completely face her counterpart Bridget takes a few steps closer. With her free hand she cradles Rebekah’s cheek, noticing the blonde’s inaudible swallow before easing in to capture full, rosy lips with her own. After a few seconds they pull back slightly to glance at each other, neither showing any sign of running away. With this mutual conclusion they both surge forward, Rebekah grasping Bridget’s hips as the witch holds her face delicately, drifting away in a consuming embrace.     


	2. Welcome To The Big Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel investigates a gruesome discovery; Jordan fully realizes her status as a hybrid on her first day back at school; Bridget and Rebekah make plans to embark on their relationship; Tensions between Keelin and Veda reach an all-time high after an incident involving Mikaela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we have a little bit of history and background on JD. There will be more in the next chapter because the information given in this one is not from his perspective which means it's easy to maybe...leave some facts out. Marcel's mess is important because a LOT of characters get dragged in it so pay attention haha. And of course there's drama and love for the Freelin family. 
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) The Brothers Bright - Awake O Sleeper: Marcel checks out a situation at the docks.
> 
> 2) Lolawolf - Baby I'm Dyin': Bridget surprises Rebekah with breakfast and they talk.
> 
> 3) Unlike Pluto - Fade All My Life: Jordan gets her books from her locker before going to class.
> 
> 4) Alabama Shakes - Don't Wanna Fight: Sharon gets ready at her apartment with Isaiah.
> 
> 5) Avriel & The Sequoias - Fields And Pier: Mikaela paints at school.
> 
> 6) TRACE - Heavy Shoulders: Bridget and Josh meet with a client in Lafayette Cemetery.
> 
> 7) Young The Giant - Something To Believe In: Sharon and Marcel discover what happened to the treasure hunters Part 1.
> 
> 8) SHAED - Trampoline: Rebekah meets Veda.
> 
> 9) Christian TV - 123, Turn Around: Keelin works her shift at Tulane Hospital.
> 
> 10) Kios - Right Now: Jordan listens to music in the Commons.
> 
> 11) Spelles - Dead In The Water: FLASHBACK of JD awakening.
> 
> 12) HAEL - Venom: Keelin confronts Veda at the compound.
> 
> 13) Elliot Moss - 99: Marcel tells Sharon about his history with JD.
> 
> 14) Extreme Music - Devil's Gonna Come: Marcel discovers JD's attack on his headquarters.
> 
> 15) Julie Byrne - Natural Blue: Bridget plays her song for Rebekah.
> 
> 16) The Boy and His Dog - Only You: Keelin and Jordan talk; Keelin and Freya apologize to each other before stargazing.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

An irritated Marcel strides into the building and immediately lays eyes on his target. “Remind me how the hell it took so long for you to find a squatter with a gang of rotting corpses in my docks. In case you haven’t noticed, I already have enough going on as is.” RJ shifts his weight forward from the support of stacked wooden crates. “For the millionth time I’m sorry that we didn’t notice sooner. It’s my bad so I’ll take the blame, but keep in mind that we barely run any operations out of this place. At most it’s just our humble makeshift casino for when there’s nowhere else to play. I’ve been beating ‘em pretty bad at Blackjack,” he informs proudly. Marcel eyes him incredulously.

“Yeah, well in about a minute or two I’ll be beating you _with_ a blackjack. _So_. Where is this lone survivor that can’t seem to keep my name out of his mouth?”

RJ motions an arm out towards their destination. “Right this way, boss.” He spins on his heels signaling Marcel to follow as they walk down the narrow path. “Petey found the guy cowering behind some crates earlier this morning. Judging by the state of him and his smell he’s been here for a while. I mean he _wreaks_ man. The only thing he had on him was some tagged keys that led us to a docked boat outside. That’s where we found the rest of his crew completely drained. Pretty sad story.” They stop as they reach a small crowd observing a skinny young man with dirty blonde hair.

“Yeah. Now I wonder what it’s got to do with me,” Marcel states, gaining dark eyes on him. “He was in shock when Petey and the others found him. All he says is your name over and over like he’s in some trance. You’re sure that you’ve never dealt with this guy _ever_ ,” RJ asks. Marcel turns his head to gaze at the younger vampire seriously. “Never. I know just as much as you do,” he affirms.

RJ nods his head before looking to his fellow vampires. “Hey, guys. Let’s clear out and give him some space alright?” A man and a woman both shrug before leaving the scene while the remaining trio move to stand a few feet away. Marcel approaches the scraggly man huddling in a corner by the shipping containers. “He’s a scavenger, a pirate looking for treasure. I’ve never seen one so close to being traditional, but I’ve heard the stories growing up. It’s definitely more interesting than the trademark fancy suit and dirty hands we’ve grown accustomed to,” he remarks.

“Eh, agree to disagree. Doesn’t seem like your new friend here is finding much treasure the traditional way,” RJ retorts. “But maybe seeing you will trigger something interesting.”

Focusing in on the survivor Marcel crouches down in front of him. “Hey. You asked for me, I’m here.” The man briefly looks up at the leader before lowering his tired eyes again. “Marcel Gerard,” he mutters quietly. “Who are you,” Marcel tries again. “Marcel Gerard,” the scoundrel repeats. The vampire tilts his head in examination.

“Like I said, a trance. He’s been like that since we found him. I tried compulsion, and everything so don’t expect to get much out of the poor bastard. I think he’s on that crazy vervain stuff but either way he’s definitely out of it.” Marcel licks his lips and rises to his feet, spinning around to face RJ. “Well, this looks like a job for a powerful witch to do doesn’t it?”

“You have one of those on standby, Marcel?”

“Maybe so. Tell everybody to make sure that boat is one-hundred percent clean. No bodies, no treasure, not even a candy wrapper got it? We don’t need to give Stuart Ferguson a reason to bury our asses by ending our treaty. So, cover it up and call Bishop about getting more eyes on things around here. In the meantime I’ll be taking John Doe to the Queen herself for a little diagnosis.”

* * *

 

Sunlight pours onto Rebekah’s face as she instinctively reaches out for the woman in front of her. Instead she’s greeted with the touch of cool sheets prompting her to blink her eyes open. Slowly lifting up her head she realizes that Bridget is no longer occupying the designated space, and upon sitting up in bed she finds herself completely alone. After a moment of fully regaining her consciousness she slips out of the covers to exit the room. She pads down the stairs and through the short hallway to enter the living space where she finally locates her target. However, she is caught off guard by the setup accompanying the witch. Pastries topped with strawberries, fresh bowls of fruit, and sizzling bacon all adorning the prepared table. The simple but thoughtful gesture endears her to no end.  

Bridget, clad in black tights and a matching sports bra, sets a pitcher of orange juice on the dining table displaying the full course meal. Then she shakes a single white pill free from a small bottle before popping it into her mouth and washing it down with water. “There you are,” Rebekah pipes up while padding over. “For a second the thought of you changing your mind had crossed my own.”

Bridget promptly turns to face her with a wide grin. “Not even close,” she reassures. “I’m just an early bird remember? So, after my morning run I figured I’d make you a little something something for your first day back in New Orleans. Eggs, bacon, crepes…O Negative blood. The whole nine.” Offering a bright smile of her own Rebekah wraps her arms around the younger woman’s waist.

“I can’t say for certain, but I may just be a bit smitten with a sickeningly sweet witch,” she remarks.

“Ten points for Gryffindor,” the pureblood quips.

The pair meet in a soft kiss before slightly pulling back to gaze at each other happily. “I hope you have room for the scrambled eggs. Truth be told I’m not all that fond of them,” Rebekah states. Bridget tilts her head at the blonde. “Of course. I forgot that I have a picky eater on my hands,” she replies. “I’m not picky. I’m just particular about the things I consume. You should sympathize with that seeing as you’re apparently all about your body being a temple at any bloody hour.”

“Fair enough, you’ve proven your point. Unfortunately, I can’t stay long enough to come up with a good rebuttal because I have work to do. I was just about to take a shower before you waltzed on in actually.”

“Really? Well, refresh my memory a bit. What does your secretive line of work entail?”

“You know that I’m an independent contractor. I, along with my great pal Josh, take jobs to help people around the city with certain stipulations of course. It’s mostly spells, spells, and more spells on my end.”

“Well what better way to seize the day than to join you on these little adventures,” Rebekah chirps, earning a quirked eyebrow from Bridget. “If you’re going off on your heroic escapades then there’s no reason for me to stay behind in utter boredom. I’m tagging along. Think of it as a ‘Bring Your Own Helpful Vamp to Work’ Day. You’re going to need one with Josh on your current roster.”

Bridget stares at the older woman carefully. “Rebekah. You’ve yet to show your face at the compound. I already told Freya that you’re in New Orleans because of the bounty situation so she’s counting on a visit from her mischievous little sister. Not to mention…last night we talked for hours about having the quiet time to explore our relationship without drama. You hiding out here or holding my hand around the city could raise suspicions,” she points out. “Honestly the entire conversation must have slipped my addled brain once your lips were on mine,” Rebekah jests, gaining a serious look from the witch. “Fine. I see your point and I agree. But forgive me if I’m more interested in the _when_ part of beginning this starry-eyed exploration.”

“Well, as a start you can meet me at the Blue Moon bar later to catch my _show_. Then we can go for a midnight stroll afterwards,” Bridget pitches accordingly.

An appeased Rebekah lights up with excitement. “Have you really been showcasing your hidden talent after all this time of playing so coy about it,” she inquires, surprised. “I’ve…been playing here and there but I didn’t wanna make a big deal about it. Kinda like how you’re doing now,” the pureblood retorts. “Only because you choose to be so needlessly modest. I recall how lovely you play, and it is one of my most treasured parts about our time together in New York. You even inspired me to dust off the old keys,” the blonde reclaims.

Bridget waves off the praise with a bashful smile and light roll of her eyes. “Please. I have nothing on centuries worth of classical piano training. All I have is some edgy girl hobby I picked up in college. It’s not like I’m ‘Songwriter of the Year’ or anything. But I admit that it’s always a chill way to end a work day,” she states. “Well, I for one am quite turned on by the sensitivity of a musically inclined soul,” Rebekah proclaims, chin raised. “Is that right? Well…maybe a better perk comes with it after all,” the witch remarks, leaning in to capture her lips. “Mhm,” the vampire hums into the kiss, holding her hips.

* * *

 

Students buzz around the hallway while chattering mindlessly. A few feet away a couple of boys bang on the red lockers obnoxiously, and Jordan turns the volume up on her phone to drown out the commotion as she unlocks the device to check her newest message.

 

**KEELIN**

_Everything is okay right?_

**ME**

_Yeah, nothing has changed a bit. But shouldn’t you be cutting into some mangled patient instead of checking on me every two seconds?_

**KEELIN**

_That requires more of a surgeon’s expertise and “every two seconds” is a huge exaggeration._

**ME**

_You’re right, I’m sorry. You’ve been texting me every five minutes with the silent threat of finally just calling at some point._

**KEELIN**

_Well excuse me then. At least I know that you’re actually doing good with all that snark still intact so fine, I’m getting back to work. Just remember to have a great day and don’t forget to text Freya about dinner okay?_

**ME**

_I will, I promise. But just so you know Freya already beat you to the First Day Encouragement Party. She literally asked me about my top 3 favorite meals to eat. I’m scared but excited to see what dinner will look like._

**KEELIN**

_I guess that now would be an awkward time to ask you about dessert then huh? I was going to pick up something on the way home._

**ME**

_If you guys want to make my happiness an Olympic game then can I really complain? Maybe I’ll get a nice car out of it soon._

**KEELIN**

_Ha! I wouldn’t get that ahead of myself if I were you. Baby steps remember? So have a nice rest of your day, sweetie. Hopefully I won’t get stuck here all night and you can give me a good recap._

Jordan hovers her fingers over the screen as she tries to compose the best response. Last night she had decided to really work on her relationship with the doctor for the sake of honoring family. After witnessing how much Keelin fought for her and respected her feelings, even after her lashing out for the first time ever, she couldn’t help but feel the guilt of not returning such devotion. In truth she’s been clinging more to Freya’s comfort for the past few months and it wasn’t just because she had survived a traumatic experience with the Viking. They could talk about their heritage and what it means to them. More importantly they didn’t need words to describe something that can be felt vibrating within every fiber of their being.

Coming from a bloodline founded on virtual hubris Freya could understand the prideful community of witches that she hails from. The way New Orleans witches value their gifts like high art and look down upon anyone that fails to hold that strong connection to Nature. Her own bloodline stressed being bound for life, or more so the bloodline that she thought she belonged to for so long courtesy of Tanya. Now knowing that one wrong move, be it intentional or not, could sever that link forever and completely alter her life scares her.

But she knows it isn’t fair to hold her own struggles with identity against Keelin. The werewolf hadn’t rested one moment in favor of keeping her safe and happy since they were thrown into each other’s lives. Everything about her is selfless, patient, and loving through the good days and the very bad ones. It’s highly unlikely that she would ever find someone else all in like that when it comes to her wellbeing. Therefore, maybe it was time for her to at least try and meet Keelin halfway. It might take ages to finally reach a good place but perhaps she could maintain some peace.

Finally deciding on a simple but involved reply Jordan begins typing on the touchscreen just as the bell rings. Looking around she notices several students scurrying off and curses under her breath before grabbing a book and shutting her locker. Luckily, her next class is just down the hall, so she practically glides right into the room while the teacher is busy writing on the board.

The curious eyes she’s grown accustomed to over the course of her last two periods instantly fall on her in fascination. Taking a deep breath she holds her book to her chest as she walks down the row in search of an open seat. It isn’t long before she’s slipping into one next to a girl reaching down into her backpack. After placing her book on the desk she sets her own bag down on the floor and retrieves her supplies. Upon straightening up in her chair she instinctively looks to her left discovering wide brown eyes gaping at her. She internally curses at her heartrate picking up speed.

“Jordan,” the curly-haired girl utters.

Jordan swallows thickly while gazing at the best friend she left behind. Her innocent features, thick high ponytail, trademark patch jean jacket, and double pierced ears. She’s amazed by how much she’s stayed exactly the same. But then again why would she have changed? It’s not like she was the one who had her entire life turned upside down. “Jasmine. Hey…uh it’s been awhile.”

“Like five months…actually,” Jasmine states, suddenly downcast. Jordan fixes her lips to speak but finds it nearly impossible to gather her thoughts. Fortunately for her the witch decides to ease her dilemma by leaning in to continue. “I thought about you every day, all the time. I still do, Jordan. No one would let me see you when you came home. You…didn’t want to see me, but I never gave up. I just hated not knowing if you were okay or if I’d ever get my best friend back.” The two girls stare at each other, silently anticipating their next step.

“Good morning class. I hope that everyone went over the chapter I assigned for last night’s reading. If not, you’re going to be pretty lost today. So, let’s begin with some examples of transmutation alright,” their teacher announces. “Would anyone like to start us off?” Jordan takes the cue to rearrange her position in her seat while biting her lip and Jasmine reluctantly turns her head to face forward.

* * *

  

Sharon stands in front of the bathroom mirror while fixing her makeup. Soon an attractive man comes up from behind to wrap his arms around her waist. “You’re up pretty early considering last night.” He sweetly kisses her neck and looks to her reflection in the mirror. “You’re up pretty late considering last night. Isn’t it a bit irresponsible to sleep over at your mistress’s home the night before an important meeting?” The man lifts his chin just an inch before suddenly spinning the witch around to face him. “Isaiah, don’t. You should’ve been gone last night and I’m already late.”

“No, how about you don’t Sharon. Firing shots at me is unnecessary. I understand that you don’t want anything serious alright.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, I do actually. You don’t want a commitment right now and you _love_ reaffirming that. But don’t pin everything on me like I haven’t been fighting to have a real chance with you.”

Sharon rolls her eyes in exasperation while looking away. “We sleep together because it’s fun. We have chemistry, it’s nice, it feels good but that’s _all_ we have between us. You, on the other hand, have a wife and a daughter to worry about. They should be your top priority not me,” she affirms. Isaiah stares at her for a moment before shaking his head. “You know that we’re not married anymore, Sharon. And as for my daughter she’s well taken care of. Don’t try to create a fight where there is none,” he replies knowingly.

“She still wears your last name proudly and you still have the option of going home to her any night you choose. As far as I’m concerned she’s still Mrs. Harrington.”

Suddenly, Isaiah presses her against the sink and grips her thighs to lift her up. A breath gets caught in Sharon’s throat, but she recovers by grasping his shoulders as he kisses her ferociously. While reciprocating with just as much hunger she moves her hands to begin unbuttoning his shirt until three loud knocks sound at the front door. “I need you right now, Sharon. You haven’t been answering my calls and you weren’t at your office.” Placing a hand to Isaiah’s chest Sharon ends their heated moment to listen to the easily recognizable voice. “Who is it,” her lover asks only to be shushed. Another quick succession of knocks pound on the door. “I know you’re in there and I don’t have time for the games. Look, I have a man out here with me. He can’t even remember his own name because of some bad things he was involved in. Some very bad things, Sharon. So just open the door and let me in because we need to figure this out,” Marcel asserts, pausing. “Or maybe I can just pay Kayla a little visit. It’s your choice.”  

Without notice Sharon slides off the sink counter and pushes past Isaiah to exit the bathroom. She marches all the way to the front door and swings it open prompting a surprised Marcel to straighten up. The vampire stares at her before he’s alerted to the man down the hall throwing his suit jacket on. He narrows his eyes as realization dawns on him and fixes his gaze to a frowning Sharon.

* * *

 

Mikaela swirls some paint in a large circle creating a pale yellow moon on her paper. The curly-haired boy next to her sneaks a peek over at her artwork and examines the dark depiction of a starry night in the woods. The pitch black background, subtle swirls of red, and stark silhouette of tall pine trees against the sky fascinate yet frighten him all at once. Quietly gulping he sits his own paintbrush down.

“W-What are y-you making, M-Mikaela?”

Focused hazel eyes instantly flit up to him before relaxing. “It’s the secret forest in my dreams. I’m gonna live there someday,” Mikaela informs. Brown eyes widen at her. “Oh,” the boy utters. “C-Can I come t-too?” With interest the hybrid slightly tilts her head at her hopeful classmate. “Um…I don’t think so,” she answers regretfully. “I didn’t see you in my dream. Only Hope was there.”

“Hope,” the boy questions, confused. Mikaela nods affirmatively. “She’s my big cousin and she’s just like me.” She watches as the awkward boy’s face falls and instantly feels his sadness washing over her. “You’re special too, Carlos. Don’t worry.” Carlos picks his head back up to gaze at her, mustering a sheepish grin. “C-Can I come t-to see you s-sometimes,” he inquires softly, blinking.

“Mhm,” Mikaela replies, dimpled grin on display. Carlos widens his own grin while ducking his head just as a brunette woman bends down between them. “Hey, sweeties. Can I see what you guys are working on?” The curly-haired boy wastes no time holding up his painting with a proud look. “M-mine is a f-firetruck, Miss L-Lan,” he exclaims. The teacher gazes at the picture with a gasp of her own, noting the colorful sky and detailed emergency vehicle. “I see that, honey. You did a very good job with the colors. Gimme a high five,” she gushes. Carlos immediately obliges by slapping the woman’s hand excitedly. With a playful chuckle Miss Lan redirects her gaze to Mikaela who promptly displays her work. Her dark eyes roam over the eerily impressive picture.

“Wow. This is definitely interesting. You’re really good, Mikaela. Do you paint a lot at home?”

“Sometimes I do. I really like to draw with my cousin Jordan at home, but my other cousin Hope showed me how to paint. My Uncle Klaus paints too. He’s the best at it.”

Miss Lan nods along at the information but mindlessly clutches her pendant encasing an Egyptian Blue stone. “So artistry runs in the family huh? Well, do you think you can empty out some of these containers Mini Kahlo?” The adorable beam she’s grown accustomed to from the little girl instantly makes a vibrant appearance. “I can do it, Miss Lan,” Mikaela assures enthusiastically. “Great,” the teacher replies, smiling. “Just remember to take your time and be careful. No funny business okay? Carlos can help too.” The two children slip off their wooden stools with purpose.

“Okay Miss Lan,” they utter in unison. After cradling a container of color-stained water each they walk over to the sink by the window. Mikaela politely allows Carlos to climb the provided step stool first. “Be careful,” she states as a reminder. Her classmate reaches the top and cautiously pours the water into the sink. “D-done,” the boy notifies. Turning around he descends the sturdy steps to allow his companion access. Mikaela makes her way up to the sink and watches the muddy water splash against stainless steel as she empties her container. Tilting her head in satisfaction she peers up to notice several wilting plants along the windowsill. She reaches out to hold the petals of one before pulling away and looking down at the iridescent stone dangling from her neck.

“C-Come on, Mikaela. W-we have m-more to get.”

The hybrid turns around slightly to look at the wide-eyed boy waiting below her. “Do you wanna see a magic trick,” she asks suddenly. Parting his lips slightly Carlos gazes at her while nodding.

* * *

 

“So, I heard that you can do any job I ask for.”

A petite red-haired girl spins on her heels to redirect her gaze from the shelves of magical items. “Any job within reason. That excludes any murderous sprees, contract killing, crazy revenge plots, etc. Basically killing is off the table,” Josh quips, staring at her. “Of course,” the girl agrees, shaking her head. “Despite meeting you in some creepy old tomb, I’m not here because I want anyone dead. Well…not exactly anyway.” Josh looks to Bridget who folds her arms while observing quietly. “Okay…good I think. So, what are you looking for then,” he asks, skeptic. The client bites her lip.

“I want you to turn me. Into a vampire that is,” she reveals nervously.

Josh’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as Bridget pats him on the shoulder. “Welp. Sounds like this one is more up your alley,” the witch quips, moving past her partner to reach another table. “You want me to do what now,” the vampire questions. The redhead steps forward, knitting her fingers together as she takes in his look of pure disbelief.

“So, I’m in love with this guy right? Well, at least I think that I am I mean who’s to really know at nineteen? That’s what my mom tells me anyway. He’s a junior at my college and just so happens to be the most sweetest, kindest, immortal soul. I want to be with him forever, but he refuses to turn me. I don’t want some sketchy back alley job or to be sworn into the league of assassins for it so you’re my best option to get it done. You can do no wrong according to everyone around here.”

“You can’t be serious. I mean once you become a vampire everything changes. You get the cravings for blood, killer instinct, loss of your humanity. Life as you know it is literally over and a lot of people don’t recover from that. You have to know that there’s a valid reason behind his decision not to turn you into Buffy the Coed Vampire,” Josh stresses, side eyeing her.

“Well, what am I supposed to do,” the college student sighs out. “Should I just settle for a blink in the lifetime of the one person that really gets me? I want this okay? And it’s not up to him to decide what happens to my body. It’s nobody’s decision but mine so just name your price and help me out.”

Josh tilts his head at her before twisting around slightly to gaze at his partner. Bridget simply raises her eyebrows and continues to set up a spell on the table leaving her friend to his own devices. “If real help is what you want then sure, I can give that to you. What’s your name again,” the vampire asks. “Silvia,” the redhead replies, hopeful. “Silvia, just look into my eyes for a moment okay,” Josh directs, stepping forward. Instantly entranced by his gaze, the girl nods in short. “You will forget that any part of you even considered this insane plot to keep a guy that you’re not really sure that you’re in love with. And let’s be honest, he may be here forever but that doesn’t mean that he will always be here for _you_. This is the time for you to be finding yourself, exploring what the world has to offer. Also reconsider your life choices in the comfort of your Hello Kitty dorm room. You don’t want to be that person regretting your actions over some hot and mysterious guy a few years from now, trust me.”

Silvia stares blankly at him for a second. “I think I’m just gonna go back to my dorm and think things over,” she announces, monotone. Josh smiles with a short nod and gestures toward the exit. “Glad I could help. No charge,” he quips. After the college student walks out of the mausoleum the vampire spins around to find his partner shaking her head while grinning down at her work.

“What? You can’t say that wasn’t warranted. I mean really.”

“Hey, I’m not saying that divine intervention wasn’t necessary in the case of Juliet there. It’s just rare to see you deciding for other people. You’re all about free will and discovering life paths like a walking ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ book.”

Josh moves to stand on the other side of the table, across from the busy witch. “Well, it was either taking some autonomy now to help her avoid a total trainwreck later or just letting her go out there with all the angsty desperation,” he defends, causing her to peer up at him. “Fair enough. Plus she can’t really complain about the free consultation,” Bridget jests. “Exactly,” her partner agrees, grinning. “So, what are you working on? Anything just completely bizarre?”

The pureblood looks down at the various items occupying the work table. “Hmm…just a truth serum for a spousal dilemma and a baby gender revealing spell for a sneaky fiancé. I think I’ve finally found my ultimate relationship goals. Oh wait no. I shouldn’t speak too soon since we have to take back a stolen item residing in the practically booby trapped home of a scorned ex-lover.”

“And they say that true love is dead. I’m just glad that I’ve snagged one of the good ones. A guy willing to go to the ends of the earth and back for me,” Josh states happily. When Bridget looks up at him in silent agreement he grins deviously. “ _Speaking_ of going to the ends of the earth…can I interest you in some ‘Welcome Back Waffles’ while interrogating you about what the hell you got up to with the Blonde Widow last night?”  

“There’s nothing to tell really,” Bridget claims, smiling.

Josh tilts his head at the short-haired woman, completely unconvinced. “Yeah right and I’m not the undead champ of Dance Dance Revolution. There’s no way in hell that there’s _nothing_ to tell about the scariest little Mikaelson you’ve been hung up on for the past three months. I mean there’s all those calls, texts, video chats. You braving through the premature long distance storm without so much as looking at any other potential thing. And this is all after that first month of you racking up those teleportation miles just to see her. Something _had_ to have happened now that she’s back in the land of opportunity here. I mean last night she had a sleepover at your place for Pete’s sake. Wait…omg! Did you guys…”

“No, we haven’t slept together yet,” Bridget affirms, shaking her head. “Going into this neither of us wanted her to end up being just another one of my flings. More than anything _I_ didn’t want that for her, Josh. We’re best friends first, we’re family and I’ll always want to do right by her. So, we took it slow and just enjoyed each other’s company with a certain added bonus of newfound closeness. To be honest though I think that our first formal date was the tipping point of our little unspoken rule. But then of course Elijah’s call to action stifled that.” Josh nods while giving her a sympathetic gaze.

“Yeah, I know. The good ol’ Mikaelson pact to stay together forever. Somewhere in the small print it includes blocking fellow siblings from sizzling romance apparently,” he jests lightheartedly. Bridget nods shortly with a half grin on her lips. “Yeah. So, last night we just had some pillow talk and made out for a bit. That’s all. We want to see where we can really go with this relationship before putting a label on things and telling our family okay.”

“Hey, I totally get it alright? I know all about the lowkey relationships and hush hush affairs. I understand you guys wanting to test the waters and figure things out before the doomsday cavalry comes riding in, but something tells me that you don’t exactly need the extra time to ponder your deeper feelings for her. Don’t hold back on what you really want out of fear. At least not for longer than you have to. You and I both know that she’s never going to be just some fling at this point.” Bridget pierces his eyes, unwittingly bearing her soul, and bites her lip before looking down. _Maybe that’s what scares me the most_.

“Just so you know I support you, Bridget. I support you in your happiness even if it means encouraging your cuddle make out sesh with Rebekah Mikaelson.”

Peering up, the pureblood shakes her head with amusement. “I should’ve never been the responsible partner by letting you know that I was out of town on a mission,” she remarks. “Maybe not given that you were on Mission Impossible: Ruthless Blonde Edition. But hey, being the awesome friend that I am I’m willing to ease up on you in favor of switching the topic to my impending wedding plans. I could use some sane advice about the seating arrangement situation. You know how family affairs can get, especially with the small world angle,” Josh states, cringing at the thought.

“No problem partner,” Bridget throws back in understanding.

* * *

 

Sharon floats around the kitchen and shared lounge space to disperse fumes from the burning plant in her hand. Marcel looks from the catatonic survivor sitting on the grey sofa to the witch mumbling an incantation as she moves. “So…entertaining the man that owns half of New Orleans. Of course the Queen Bee is into big shots with custom fit suits,” he remarks. The consul rolls her eyes in annoyance. “I can’t tell if this is your way of showcasing your jealousy or upsetting the balance of my life,” she retorts before extinguishing the piece of shrub. After setting it on a small coffee table she walks over to the victim and lowers down onto her knees. Dark eyes zone in on the irritable woman.

“Mm. Maybe a little bit of both. I haven’t decided yet.”  

“Nice to know that your dropping by unrequested is really just an affectionate visit in disguise. But let’s just get to business now shall we,” Sharon proposes, extending a hand to him. Marcel throws a questioning look causing her to sigh out in exasperation. “If you want me to give you a clear vision then I’m going to have to channel some power. I’m running on fumes here in case you couldn’t tell.” Without further prompting the vampire rises from his spot on the kitchen stool and stands over the witch, grasping her open palm. “Do what you gotta do alright,” he states simply.

“I’ll do what I can. Don’t forget that you’re in no position to demand anything from me,” Sharon reminds him while closing her eyes. “Ouvre ton esprit à moi, ouvre ton esprit à moi, ouvre ton esprit à moi, ouvre ton esprit à moi.” She continues chanting the spell as she opens her eyes to begin swinging a talisman in front of the survivor’s eyes. Marcel watches the leader falling into a trance of her own.

**_“Man this thing is next level tech. It’s exactly what we need for a big payoff.”_ **

**_The blonde-haired man points his beer bottle to the small LCD screen before taking a swig and kicking back in his chair. Two other men watch the live feed of an underwater exploration along with him while drinking and another man stands just behind him. “Alright, I’ll give it to you Shane. This is pretty cool. But it’s also stolen which means somebody will be coming after your ass.”_ **

**_Shane turns his head slightly to regard his chuckling friend. “Hey, Michael is smart. He’s been conducting his business, same as us, without being shut down. The man’s name is in just about everybody’s mouth and yet he’s never caught a case. Besides, this is a good investment,” he argues. His fellow crew member raises an arm in surrender before drinking from his flask._ **

**_“Don’t mind Bryan. He’s just in need of a little faith. Maybe tonight will give him some. To be clear I mean him getting a call back from that bartender, not finding ourselves something of value.”_ **

**_Unamused, Bryan lowers his flask to eye the man wearing a beige bucket hat. “Very charming, asshole. But what I don’t get is how that’s not working in your favor. At this rate you’re gonna be marrying your true love Dylan over there,” he retorts, smirking. His friend tilts his head before slamming his beer down hard on the table and standing up. “Well, why the hell not,” he throws back, extending his arms. The skinny man seated next to him widens his eyes knowingly. “Hey, not tonight Ron. I mean it,” he warns. Unbothered by the protesting his drunken friend lowers onto one knee beside his chair._ **

**_“I’m pretty messed up right now, but will you do me the honor huh? We’ll leave Bryan to die a lonely old bastard,” Ron slurs._ **

**_“Yeah yeah whatever,” Dylan replies, rolling his eyes._ **

**_Without notice Ron jumps to his feet and removes his hat before pulling Dylan into a sloppy kiss. The latter pushes the unruly crew member away and fixes his glasses as the bucket hat is plopped onto his head. “What the hell, you got blood on me! You’re such a dumbass,” he rebukes. “I love you too man,” Ron proclaims, laughing. Bryan shakes his head while Dylan grumbles with displeasure. Blue eyes brighten as they glue themselves to the LCD screen._ **

**_“Hey, guys. It looks like Jeff found something down there.”_ **

**_Shane sits up in his chair and places his beer bottle down on the table. Three other pairs of eyes follow his lead to find a cluster of bubbles displayed on the tablet just before the man grabs it. “Looks like he’s coming up,” Bryan comments. He walks away, and the group immediately follows him to the stern of the boat. Within a few moments the diver emerges from the dark waters and grabs onto the edge of the boat. “What is it, Jeff? Did you find something good,” Bryan questions, eyes widened. All of the men onboard watch closely as their friend removes his headgear._ **

**_“Did I find something,” Jeff snickers. “Yeah, I found something. But is it something good? Well, we’re about to find out.”_ **

Sharon escapes her trance to be met with empty blue eyes once again. “Your John Doe and his crew found something in the river and twenty bucks says it’s the reason why they’re dead,” she deduces. Marcel tilts his head at her with uncertainty. “You think they made enemies out of some vampires over some junk they found in the Mississippi,” he reiterates in disbelief.

“I don’t know what I think but I know what I saw. You’re just lucky that they were seafaring strangers and not citizens of this city. But either way if this is an example of your vampires being out of line then…”

“I know, I know. You’re gonna find some way to end me after putting your foot down on my guys,” Marcel interrupts, lifting his free hand to silence her. “Punishing a couple of ignorant vampires and making the rest fall in line is all fine with me. Hell, I’ll gladly do it myself. But first I need to know what exactly happened to this man and his friends alright?” Sharon stares at him for a moment before looking to the victim in front of her with a sigh. “His name is Shane. And it looks like we’re about to find out what happened to the rest of his crew.” She reattaches her weary eyes to the vampire observing her intently.

* * *

 

Rebekah saunters into the courtyard and is instantly greeted by a small creature frolicking over to her. Looking down at the little animal she can’t deny its wholeheartedly adorable appearance. With its sandy coat, wide dark eyes, long whiskers, and little pink button nose one can’t help but be endeared. However, any trace of a sweet moment is ruined as soon as it jumps up onto her new jeans with dirty paws. After shooing the animal off of her legs she inspects her pants with disapproval and twirls around huffing. Her newest little shadow seems to mimic her actions playfully.

“Hello? Is there anybody home? I’m not entirely sure of what this creature prancing around is, but I can assure you that I haven’t quite fallen victim to its utter cuteness just yet.”

Veda soon appears from the kitchen causing Rebekah to tilt her head at the smirking stranger. “Dear Fiona, come here now. Don’t upset our new arrival,” the former calls. Her pet quickly scampers over as she bends down to scoop her up. “Forgive her unrepentant energy. She’s just excited to be going on her little retreat soon and apparently very fond of your aura. To my surprise her excavation was halted in favor of greeting you.” Rebekah quirks an eyebrow in disbelief and shakes her head. “I’m sorry but who are you exactly to be occupying my family home? And how was your little gremlin allowed entry as well,” she questions, discourteous.

“Fennec fox,” Veda throws back simply. “Fiona is a very expensive fennec from my homeland, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t expect you to hold such knowledge. You are the new flower delivery girl aren’t you? Judging by your shoddy attire you must be ready to pull out the weeds and breathe life into this courtyard. I would twirl a finger myself, but I suppose that this is what we have you for.”

A bitter smile materializes on Rebekah’s lips as she steps closer. “No. I’m afraid that I’m not the unassuming flower delivery girl. However, judging by that clear disdain for life you’re carrying around you must be the help masquerading as someone of importance. Since you’re obviously a poor ignorant wretch I will give you the benefit of the doubt just this once by not ripping your heart out right in this bloody courtyard. And to properly display manners that you clearly don’t possess here’s a free word of advice. You’d do best to keep that attitude in check for my temper, although long since reconciled, is still an unfortunate thing really.” Veda eyes her with amusement and lowers Fiona to the floor just as footsteps echo throughout the space.

“And what a pleasure it is to finally be graced with my little sister’s presence,” Freya greets while entering the courtyard. Rebekah redirects her attention to her sibling and happily accepts the strong hug she offers. “My apologies. I’ve endured quite a series of unfortunate events as I’m sure you’ve heard. It was in my best interest to sleep off the dreaded remains of yesterday,” she remarks. The two sisters pull away to look at each other with bright smiles. “I see. Well, all that matters now is you’re here,” the eldest affirms before stepping back. “And…if the thick tension in this courtyard is any indication I’m assuming that you two have gotten off on the wrong foot. Rebekah, this is Veda. Veda, this is my sister Rebekah. Please refrain from hurling any insults okay guys?”

Both women respond with a simple shrug of indifference. “Okay…good. You two have finally been formally introduced. Moving on now.” Sighing out, Freya wraps an arm around Rebekah’s shoulders to usher her up the stairs. “You know, you could’ve stayed here last night. The time is never an issue when it comes to family and as you can see here we have plenty of room. Yours is just as you left it but with some necessary renovations of course,” the former states. The latter offers an appreciative grin. “Of course. But for Bridget’s sake and my own it was just best to lay our heads at the nearest place of residence. I don’t doubt that you would’ve given me a grand welcoming to home sweet home,” she retorts, earning an excited grin in response.

“I guess that I should be thanking my elusive friend for your safe return whenever she can find the time to make an appearance.”

“It appears that she’s been working closely with Josh as the world’s most unlikely duo. But I suppose that his ridiculous ability to escape death against all odds brings her some minor luck.”

“Yeah. Their business has been running rather smoothly so perhaps they bring each other some luck. It seems like Josh could pack up Rousseau’s at any time since it’s becoming more of a hobby for him. But…what makes you so unsure of their partnership,” Freya asks curiously, eyeing the vampire. “Nothing. It’s just a bit odd in my opinion considering their vastly different credentials. But I suppose that odd couples are in these days. Something about a particularly unbecoming union must be quite aesthetically pleasing.” The witch quirks an eyebrow at the sarcastic comment.

“Well somebody sounds a bit jealous that they didn’t get invited to the clubhouse,” she quips playfully.

Rebekah smirks with mild amusement before glancing behind them to see Veda mindlessly tapping away on her phone. “So. Must Mommy Dearest follow you everywhere like some annoyingly sumptuous shadow,” she questions. Freya shakes her head knowingly. “Be nice, Rebekah. It’s kinda necessary at this point,” she retorts. They enter the study littered with paperwork and magical items laid out for immediate use.

“And you have a generous amount of years to bond with your sister. Surely you can tolerate sharing her for an undisclosed fragment of that time, sweetheart.”

Rebekah moves towards the desk and clasps her hands together before spinning around to face the brunette. “And have you been doting on my poor sister the way that you do with darling Fiona? It certainly seems that way with your insistence on lingering someplace where you aren’t needed. I don’t much care for prevaricating through important issues as you can see,” she remarks.

“I’ve found that she genuinely appreciates my presence while I only know of your absence. And so far I’m gathering that you share little more than blood with her. Certainly grace was not in abundance by the time the line tumbled down to you,” Veda tosses back. Freya holds up her hands to both women immediately. “As much as I’m really feeling the love here can we all just turn it down a bit. Veda, if you could leave me to help Rebekah here I would more than appreciate it,” she requests, eyes pleading. The brunette narrows her eyes at the vampire smirking with success.

“Of course, little bird,” she relents. With a short nod she exits the study causing Freya to tilt her head before turning to address Rebekah. “So,” the witch sighs out. “Where do we begin to keep the greedy bastards away from my little sister.” The original folds her arms to her chest while tilting her own head.

* * *

 

“So, how are the two Stubborn Joes?”

A short brunette woman in scrubs turns to see Keelin entering the hospital room. “I’d say pretty darn good for one who just had a fence post removed from his ribs and another who nearly got his good arm chopped off,” the nurse remarks. The doctor offers a small grin in response. “You can make your great escape now. I’m clearly here to let you off the hook as ‘thanks’,” she notifies.

The nurse promptly beams at her. “And that’s why you’re my favorite doctor to work with,” she replies, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Keelin nods accordingly as the woman pats her shoulder while exiting the room. Then she fixes a reprimanding gaze to the two patients. “I’m not getting the feeling that you two fully understand how hard it is to hide severely injured werewolves in a human hospital.”   

“Relax, doc. It’s the emergency room so nobody’s stuck on us but you. And you’ve done a damn good job of tucking us away alright. Besides, all I had bothering me was a splinter that you kindly removed so I’m just peachy. The little stalker here shouldn’t have come at me reckless if he didn’t want a quick ride to Tulane.”

“You shouldn’t have slept with my wife!”

The man with the bandage wrapped around his torso rolls his eyes. “Will you just let it go already man? You’ve been separated from her for almost a year now. She’s moved on,” he states exasperated before looking to Keelin. “Please don’t tell my lady about this. She still has a soft spot for the whiny bastard despite herself. She feels sorry for him since he can’t accept his loss.”

“ _No_ , sir. I’m not getting in the middle of more alpha male drama. You guys need to kiss and make up before you heal enough to leave this place or the woman you two are fighting over like children will be the least of your worries. Got it?”

“Sorry Dr. Mikaelson,” the pair grumble.

Keelin supplies them with a satisfied smirk. “Apology accepted. Now try that with each other,” she orders, waving a finger. The phone in her pocket buzzes and she retrieves it to glance at the screen noting an unfamiliar number. “I’ll be back to check on you two later alright? Play nice.” She gives the men a once over before accepting the call and holding the phone to her ear as she leaves the room. There’s a faint rustling sound on the other end until a throaty voice speaks up.

“Hello, Dr. Mikaelson?”

“Yes, this is she,” Keelin responds, eyebrows furrowed. “You have my deepest apologies for interrupting your busy work schedule, but this is Mikaela’s principal, Mrs. Tremblay, calling on behalf of Savanna Elementary,” the voice notifies. Surprised to be greeted by the professional woman, Keelin straightens up. “Mrs. Tremblay. Hi, is everything okay,” she questions, concerned. The restrained sigh from the principal does little to ease her sudden worry.

“Unfortunately, I’m not calling you under the best circumstances. I’m currently sitting with Mikaela due to her breaking one of our most valued rules.”

* * *

 

Jordan bends down to retrieve a bottle of iced tea from the vending machine. Turning around she scans the Commons, unwittingly locking eyes with Jasmine. The girl rises from her spot on the bench but leans down to speak to the other three students in her company. After finding an opening in the crowded area Jordan immediately takes the opportunity to hurry off. She makes it far away down the hall and yanks her earphones out just before two girls suddenly stop her in her tracks.

“Jordan Matthews. You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here.”

The girl runs a hand through her long hair and tilts her head while staring at the hybrid. “What do you want, Aniya? I’m just trying to get to my locker,” Jordan states, sighing. Both of her peers smirk deviously at her. “I don’t see why you need to do that. You don’t belong here anymore,” Aniya reclaims, shrugging. Jordan rolls her eyes while readjusting her backpack. “My family is paying for me to go here just like yours. So, excuse me.” As she moves ahead the tallest girl pushes her back by the chest. “Yeah, it’s your new wolf mama securing your spot now isn’t it? But last time we checked this was a school exclusively for witches. Turns out you don’t exactly fit the criteria.” Jordan stares up at her, tilting her head.

“Seriously? Brooke the ‘President of Inclusion’ is now shunning me for who I am? A part of me that I can’t change?”

For a moment the wavy-haired girl softens but her friend quickly intercepts the hybrid by driving her back into a locker. “So much for being the muscle, Brooke. You were two seconds away from buying into a pathetic sob story,” Aniya remarks. Brooke shakes her head and looks away. “I haven’t done anything to you so just let me go. We’ll all be in trouble if you take this too far,” Jordan affirms, wincing to keep her aggression at bay. The last thing she needs is to prove all the watchful eyes right about her nature, on her first day back to school at that. Aniya scoffs at her words.

“You think I can’t just get out of it? Did you forget who my godmother is? She runs this school. I’m somebody around here while you’re just a wolf wishing you were more,” she spews. Jordan scowls as her breathing starts to pick up. “So what now? You’re going to jump me? Humiliate me? It’s obviously just to make yourself feel better about being nothing,” she spits back. “What are you hiding, Aniya?”

In a lapse of control the witch angrily bends the metal of the lockers. “Hm, I wonder how many views this one will get,” a crisp voice chimes. Three pairs of eyes whip over to a tall boy holding up his phone to them. “Instead of harassing girls that have nothing to do with you why don’t you spend your time trying to find out where your dad just ran off to. I heard your mom is really looking. And while you’re at it Brooke how about you run along even faster to finally escape Aniya’s shadow. Sounds like a plan huh?” Brooke looks around at everyone awkwardly before hurrying away from the scene. Aniya pushes herself away from Jordan and presents a middle finger for the camera. “Delete it or I’ll spread all of your secrets around here. I’m not playing with you, Taylor.”

The boy turns the display of his phone towards her and hovers his thumb over the trashcan icon. “It’s your choice. Just leave Jordan alone alright. You can either do that or look stupid while trying to explain this to Principal Thornton. We’ll see how far the godmother angle will get you,” he concludes. Aniya rolls her eyes at him. “Fine. I’ll leave her alone. Happy?” Taylor simply grins and taps the screen to erase the incriminating evidence. The annoyed witch promptly storms off and Jordan reaches down to grab her drink from the floor. Taylor awkwardly scratches his head until wide eyes fall on him.

“Thanks,” Jordan utters, offering a small smile. “I never thought that Taylor Harris himself would save the day.” The male witch smiles back at the hybrid. “Well, some things have changed. Like…me going by Tay at school now,” he retorts. “Really? Well, good because it always suited you better. I never got why you hid that from people,” the latter states. “I wanted to be taken seriously. You already get singled out around here just for being from a one witch parent household. You don’t have a prestigious culture according to them.” Taylor immediately regrets his words as soon as Jordan lowers her head. “Hey, I’m sorry about…everything. It might not mean much coming from me, but I think it’s cool that you’re part wolf. They’re strong and fearless. Anyone should be able to respect that. And…it’s good that you’re different instead of clinging to some stuck up facade like everyone else in this school.”

Jordan gives him a halfhearted smile. “It’s okay. I get what you mean. And I already have enough of the fragile treatment at home, so I don’t really need it here too,” she states. “Noted. So, where are you headed? I can walk with you if you want. It’s nothing,” Taylor assures. “I don’t need your protection, Tay. They’re just a couple of catty girls and I know for a fact that you backed up that video to use as insurance. I’m fine okay,” the hybrid asserts. “Hold on, it’s not even about them girl. I just want to walk with you, that’s all. You don’t have to spend your entire free period alone. We can just listen to some music, my amazing playlist or yours. Doesn’t matter,” the boy proposes. Jordan bites her lip but finally nods in agreement, earning one in return from her companion.

* * *

  

**_“Careful,” Shane directs. Ron grunts as he works to pry the black decrepit coffin open. “I’m trying here but no promises,” he quips. “You’ve cut your hand twice since we’ve brought this thing up,” Bryan chimes in, working on the other end of the coffin. “Those chains were a bitch to get off.” Jeff shakes his head in disbelief at his friends. “Since when did we become grave robbers? This whole thing seems fishy, no pun intended,” he states, arms folded. “Yeah. We could be cursed like the men that broke into the Valley of the Kings,” Dylan agrees, nodding._ **

**_Four pairs of eyes shoot over to the man as he adjust his glasses and hearty chuckles soon fill the cool air. “I don’t know about curses man, but I just don’t feel right about disturbing some poor guy’s watery grave,” Jeff conveys with a weary expression. “Yeah well everybody knows that crime pays. If there’s something of value in here then we score. If not, at least I can say that I found some sucker buried in the Mississippi,” Ron remarks, kicking chains aside on the deck. “You guys are just drunk and delusional,” the diver concludes, shaking his head._ **

**_“That we are,” Bryan mutters, looking over at the man next to him. “You ready?” Ron nods with a crooked grin. “You know it,” he chirps, earning a nod from his friend. “Alright, on the count of three. One, two, three.” In a quick move the men force the coffin open to reveal several dead rats piled on top of JD’s body. Bryan turns away while shielding his mouth and nose._ **

**_“Damn that’s gross,” he coughs out._ **

**_Ron props the lid up and tilts his head while examining the greyish corpse dressed in a dark suit. “Talk about a horror show. This guy looks terrible, even for a dead guy,” he quips before scanning the other contents. “How long do you think he’s been down there,” Dylan questions, observing curiously. “Does it look like I care to make an estimate? However, making an estimate on that gold watch around his wrist is another story.” Shane furrows his eyebrows as he watches his friends eagerly exploring the coffin. Unbeknownst to Ron in his hazy state blood from his hand continuously drips onto JD._ **

**_“We should get rid of this. I have a bad feeling guys,” he speaks up._ **

**_Bryan and Ron halt their search to scoff at him. “Are you serious? You were all for this not too long ago. Now you’re ready to run away crying like a little baby,” the latter jests, laughing. “Yeah, Shane. You’re all into history and artifacts, all that. Well check this out,” the former directs. He holds up an old bisque clown toy with a rounded bottom. An eerie sensation trickles down Shane’s spine as he accepts the antique to inspect it._ **

**_“See. Nothing to worry about brother. Our friend here has fought the good fight and ultimately lost. He’s at peace now,” Ron claims, grabbing JD’s face to rock his head. His friends look at him in disgust. “Very classy man,” Bryan states sarcastically. “So disrespectful,” Jeff adds, shaking his head. “Yeah yeah lighten up ladies,” the rowdiest crew member remarks._ **

**_As he opts to release his hold JD suddenly grabs his wrist, actively drinking from the sliced palm across his mouth. “Wha-what the hell.” Five sets of eyes widen at the occurrence. “Hey, stop playing around,” Dylan orders anxiously. “I’m not! Help me,” his friend demands. Bryan attempts tear the panicky man’s hand away but is thrown back in no time. Then JD yanks Ron closer to chomp down on his neck, satiating his hunger. Out of shock, Shane and Jeff backtrack in their respective directions as Dylan shakes his head. Ron’s limp body is carelessly dropped to the deck and JD rises from his coffin, covered in blood. The vampire hisses while fixing his gaze to the target stuck in place but before he can attack Bryan charges at him. A rusty sword impales his side causing him to grunt out in pain, but he grabs the man by the neck. Bryan cringes as the hand closing around his throat forbids any air from inhabiting his lungs. Meanwhile his friends scramble around the boat._ **

**_“Find anything sharp enough to put this thing down,” Jeff yells._ **

**_“Like what? A few bucks and a couple of damaged cellphones,” Shane throws back anxiously._ **

**_He frantically searches through the mess until he finds a hunting knife. “Just stay alive while I get the gun alright,” the diver orders. After draining Bryan completely, JD tosses his body aside and bolts over to Dylan. The man screams out as sharp fangs sink into his neck and shortly after the life begins escaping his glazed over eyes. Jeff grabs the pistol and aims it at the assailant._ **

**_“Hey! Get the hell off my friend,” he demands, firing off several shots._ **

**_With his newly replenished strength JD drops his victim’s body and lifts his chin. The gunshots ring out and rip through his flesh before he marches over to the diver. He plunges a hand through Jeff’s ribcage and tilts his head silently. The victim chokes on air and his own blood before the beating organ is ripped from its home. A sharp pain shoots through JD’s back and he turns around to find Shane trembling. In one swift motion he knocks the man across the deck and tugs the knife out of his back before striding over to his target. Shane scrambles to his feet but JD snatches him up by the shirt bringing them face to face while baring his fangs._ **

Sharon is released from the haze of scattered memories and plants her eyes on Marcel immediately. “What did you do,” she questions seriously. The vampire furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What? What did you see,” he asks, confused. “What I saw was this man’s crew dredging up an old curse and being brutally murdered in the same night,” the witch states.

“I’m not seeing how this…”

“They accidently dredged up _your_ old curse. An old vampire that sees you as the sole target on his hit list. He fed on the others but passed on Shane partly to deliver a message to you. A message that says he can take what he pleases and spare who he wants. But it was only _your_ name on his mind. You’re the source of his vengeance so why is that?”

Sharon rises to her feet and Marcel stares at her in shock before running a hand down his goatee in thought.

* * *

 

At the dining table Freya is chuckling at Rebekah’s story as an unimpressed Veda drinks her wine. Keelin comes storming into the courtyard clutching the hand of a fretful Mikaela and smiles gradually fade as three pairs of eyes flit over to the fuming new presence. Freya is the first to stand with a cautious look. “Keelin. What’s going on? Why are you two home so early,” she asks, eyes briefly darting from her wife to her daughter.

“Why don’t you ask your magical best friend here. I’m sure she knows all about what our daughter has been getting into,” Keelin states bitterly. Freya tilts her head slightly and Veda sits her wine glass on the table as Rebekah spectates attentively. “Keelin,” the former starts only to be cut off. “Mikaela’s principal called me during my shift because apparently her magic grew ivy on the walls and nearly flooded the entire school. Do you know how much it costs to repair water damage of that magnitude? Let’s just say that it won’t be nearly as much as the cost to keep Mikaela in school since according to Mrs. Tremblay she’s expelled. So I would love to see you defend the antics of your dream mother now. Let’s see her explain teaching our daughter to completely ignore rules.”

Veda rises from her chair and circles the table to approach the angry woman. “I can assure you that I’ve committed no sins here. My coven,” she proclaims, pausing. “My family valued strength and confidence as they were the very things our lives were built on. As the eldest it was my duty to uphold that for us to thrive and more importantly to survive. Based upon those principles I have only been instilling pride in the littlest bird. She is without a doubt gifted and should never be told to conceal that for anyone, let alone timorous humans. So yes, I’m guilty of doting on her as well as your niece. If that is a crime in your eyes then I am sorry you feel that way. However, I will not renounce the act of embracing one’s strength. That’s certainly more than you can say with Jordan being so up and down about her hybrid nature. Happy for some glimmer of purpose one moment then moping around the place the next.”

Keelin clinches her jaw at the mention of Jordan and moves toward the woman fiercely. In a flash Rebekah is positioned in front of the wolf, placing a firm hand to her heaving chest. “What a pleasant welcoming party from my darling sister-in-law. But let’s not go bringing out the bloodbath just yet,” she advises. “I’m not going to hurt her in front of my daughter, Rebekah. But I am kicking her out of my home. She’s a toxic influence on my family in case you haven’t gathered.” Rebekah tilts her head at Keelin’s pointed gaze before turning around to look at a concerned Freya.

“Well, you can’t really argue her point there. Within the very first seconds of meeting the smug bitch I was about ready to murder her my own bloody self. I can only imagine what poor Keelin has been enduring.”

“We can work this all out like adults.”

“The only way to do that is to throw her out! This isn’t her home, Freya! Unsurprisingly she does reckless things and still ends up even closer to you! It’s freaking suffocating!”

“I don’t stay where I’m not welcomed,” Veda speaks up before turning to Freya. “And fortunately for me I am competent enough to find my own way. You needn’t worry yourself about my affairs, little bird. I will restore the tranquility of your home by seeing myself out.” Silently, Freya watches as the woman strides toward the exit. Keelin grasps Mikaela’s hand before retreating to the stairs. “Good riddance,” the werewolf huffs, marching fiercely.

Rebekah drops her own hand with a sigh of relief. “Well. I’m glad that we’ve finally rid ourselves of that needless rakefire. How about a drink? I reckon that your miffed wife might need two,” she remarks lightheartedly. “After she’s calmed down a bit I’ll talk to her. Until then we need to prepare for Jordan’s homecoming. Please tell me that you’re staying for dinner. I want the whole family present tonight seeing as it’s still her day despite the drama,” Freya affirms sullenly.

“What about Bridget? Apparently she’s working rather late.”

“Exactly why I need you here. I couldn’t possibly survive this with yet another huge void at the table.”

Rebekah hesitates as the plans previously made with the pureblood spring to the forefront of her mind. On one hand she’s been deprived of the simple pleasures associated with being in Bridget’s company for months now. But on the other hand she could never abandon her sister in distress for her own selfish desires. In her foolishly devoted heart the choice has already been made so she musters up a reassuring smile.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss a marvelous family dinner for the world.”

Freya bites her lip with a relieved nod. “Okay, good. Now please excuse me while I go see about my mischievous daughter,” she sighs out. Rebekah offers a knowing grin and nods. “I don’t suspect a proper scolding on the horizon for your mini me but nonetheless, I will be spoiling her thereafter." Freya tilts her head with a weary look before spinning on her heels to leave the courtyard. Rebekah pulls out her phone with an exasperated breath of her own to type out a message. To her surprise she receives a near instant response from the working woman.

 

**ME**

_Change of plans. Freya’s bloody mother from hell has caused a bit of drama so now I’ve been begged to stay for dinner. Seeing as Keelin has blown a fuse just now I’m obliged to be here for my sister in her time of need._

**BRIDGET SAMUELS**

_Wow. Well I can’t say that I’m not happy about having my own little safe haven away from the French Quarter drama. Freya clearly needs you more when it comes down to Keelin and Veda so it’s fine. We can do something else tomorrow._

**ME**

_I said that I will be here for her sake, but I never said that I’d sacrifice my entire night. I want to see you even if it’s not in the form of our prior engagement._

**BRIDGET SAMUELS**

_How about I find us a new meeting ground then?_

 

Rebekah smiles at the text before typing out a reply. Meanwhile, Freya enters Jordan’s room upstairs to find Mikaela perched on the queen-sized bed with her knees tucked underneath her chin. She regards her child for a moment before sauntering over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Now you know that it’s against the rules to use magic at school unless you’re directed to by a teacher, Mikaela.”

“I’m sorry, Mama. I just wanted to help the flowers get better for Miss Lan. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Freya tilts her head softly at her sensitive daughter. “I know baby girl,” she sighs. “But still, rules are rules and you broke them. Because of that a lot of people have to suffer, not just you. It’s a big deal for someone as special as you to go to a human school. I know that sometimes rules might not seem fair or you feel a little funny without your magic, but in order for this to work you have to do your part. That necklace is meant to protect not only you but everyone else around you for that matter. Therefore you have to have permission to take it off, Mikaela. Do you understand that?”

Mikaela nods in understanding. “Mommy’s mad at me,” she states sadly. “It’s true that Mommy’s upset but I promise that she’s not angry with you okay,” Freya assures. “She’s really mad at Miss Veda. She was yelling at her and you.” Freya bites her lip as she tries to find the appropriate words for the child. “Mommy and Miss Veda don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things unfortunately,” she admits regretfully. “She isn’t gonna leave us forever is she Mama,” Mikaela questions, earning a shake of her mother’s head. “I hope not baby girl. But Mommy just needs some space and time from her okay? I promise that things will be fine no matter what. Always,” Freya asserts. The little hybrid nods accordingly as her mother leans over to press a soft kiss to her head before holding her close.

* * *

 

“He’ll be okay,” Sharon reassures. “My people will look after him and once he’s fully recovered his new life will be peaceful. So peaceful that it’s almost boring.” She plops down on a square-shaped bean bag across from her guest perched on the sofa. A stony-faced Marcel lifts his head up from his clasped hands. “Yeah, I know. He’s not exactly what I’m worried about right now,” he remarks.

“Right. Your worries are currently reserved for the Mississippi Boogeyman. By the way I’m still waiting on the details, Robespierre.”

Marcel gives her a cheerless grin while shaking his head. “It’s not like you’re thinking. Or at least it always wasn’t. JD Walker was someone that I cared about, a friend. We were two of a kind and everyone saw us as brothers. I looked at the man like family but apparently brotherhood meant a whole lot of nothing to him. He barely maintained loyalty for five years,” he explains.

Sharon tilts her head with intent eyes. “So let me guess. You sentenced him to sleeping with the fishes in order to keep up your sprawling gangster fantasy. But the question is what great betrayal did Marcel Gerard’s partner in crime commit. I’m betting on a toxic power play,” she retorts simply. “I guess I’m just gonna have to go back to the beginning then,” Marcel concludes, sighing.

“Yeah. I guess you do have to.”

“When I first met JD back in ‘25 he was just James Walker, a powerful witch and dark object enthusiast. He was talented, too smart for his own good, charismatic, and courageous as hell. I figured it just came with the territory of being the son of former slaves. He understood strength and strategy, two things I needed on my side at the time if I was gonna run the wolves out of the Quarter.”

Sharon perks up at the newly acquired information and leans forward, elbows planted to her thighs. “Wait. So, he was the one that helped you eliminate the Guerrera wolves,” she asks for confirmation. Marcel licks his lips and nods accordingly. “Yeah,” he verifies. “We were outnumbered, they had the means to kill us right in their bite. It only made sense to accept the help of a hotheaded witch that looked at every wolf as the one responsible for his father’s death. Something about me reminded him of his old man and I proved that much right by fighting for my people.”

“You obviously came out on top as the reigning champion. Apparently, in part due to a resourceful witch that’s now a vampire. I’m going to take another wild guess and say that you turned him.”

“Things got messy as they do in any war. The way that we took the bulk of them out was dependent on JD’s boundary spells. He could even manipulate them into traps, manifesting fire or draining a space of air. He was good at what he did but that cockiness…that self-assured attitude that I warned him about finally caught up with him. He slipped up, miscalculated a plan and was cornered by some wolves. By the time I had gotten to him he was nearly maimed to death. So I asked him if he wanted to die a witch or live forever as a vampire. As you might’ve guessed he chose life.”

“And what happened after that.”

As vibrant memories explode in Marcel’s mind he smirks at the intrigued witch. “We reaped the benefits and enjoyed the fruits of our labor like any soldier would. Need I remind you that I was king?” Light brown eyes roll in response. “For the next five years we enjoyed the high life that New Orleans had to offer. Parties, status, lucrative business, you name it. We had everything we ever wanted, or so I thought. Apparently, he wanted more because he believed that I was taking all the glory from him.” He fixes his gaze to the high rise apartments in the distance.

“ _Did_ you take his glory,” Sharon questions, effectively regaining his attention.

“No,” Marcel answers, shaking his head. “He was my trusted advisor. Anything that I had I shared it with him and in exchange he gave me good counsel. With all the extensive knowledge he had about magic and New Orleans witches I had the perfect ally. You can believe that I wanted to maintain that. But by 1930 prohibition money was coming in fast and JD liked his drinking, his women, his lavish life. It was all good until he decided to carry out his scheme to steal what was mine. He came close to producing a monopoly all the while conspiring with witches to take out the vampires loyal to me. I had to make an example of him.”

“And now it looks like he wants to make an example of you. These are your loose ends to tie up so how are you going to handle it? Without innocent casualties just to be clear.”

“By staying ahead of the curve and using his own methods against him,” Marcel informs, rising to his feet. “He’s expecting me to come in swinging, so I’ll give him something else instead. A lot of witch power makes for a big advantage.” Sharon furrows her eyebrows in disbelief. “That little bit of free rein has really gone to your head if you think that I’m suddenly at your beck and call,” she remarks, inciting a smirk in response. “Don’t worry. I know just how… _busy_ you are these days, so I won’t bother you. Kayla’s off the hook too so there’s no need to bark your orders at me alright,” the vampire reassures. As he goes to leave the living room the consul jumps up to her feet. “Marcel,” she calls. The representative halts and turns around to look at her expectantly.

“Just keep this from becoming a civil war or worse. I can’t afford a fallout of the factions because of it so I need your word. Tell me that this will seem like an isolated incident once you’re done with it.”

“I can take care of unfinished business. You don’t ever have to question my abilities in doing so. Enjoy the rest of your night. I have a faction to run.” Marcel turns on his heels and strides toward the front door. Sharon watches him leave before moving over to the sofa and dropping down onto it with a sigh. She runs a hand through her curls and lies down on her back, wholly exhausted.

* * *

 

Dark red liquid pools at Marcel’s feet as he takes in the slaughter around him. Several bodies lie on the polished hardwood floor, either desiccated or charred beyond recognition. Others who were more fortunate lie in ruin while groaning in pain. Their leader marches over to his right-hand fiercely and ignores the blood running down the young vampire’s face.

“I told you to be on alert so what the hell happened here,” he shouts in frustration.

“The guy that you told us to be on the lookout for, the one dressed for a fancy funeral. That’s what happened here. We were ambushed with weapons, dark magic. I can’t even describe it because it happened so fast, almost as if it was out of nowhere. You said that he had magic on his side and was probably clever enough to trick the devil but Marcel he _was_ the devil during that attack.”

Marcel sighs out and carefully grasps Patrick by the back of his neck. “This one is on me alright? I made a decision a long time ago and it’s finally caught up to me,” he admits, rueful. The latter looks up at him while furrowing his eyebrows. “Is that why he wanted me to give you this,” he asks, extending a blood spattered envelope to his superior. With slight hesitation Marcel accepts the offering and plops down beside Patrick on the couch. “He said it might bring you the luck you’re going to need.” The former inspects the envelope before finally ripping it open and pulling out a flashy crystal lariat necklace. There’s an inaudible hitch in his throat as a distant memory suddenly infiltrates his racing thoughts. Patrick’s interest piques as he watches his friend dangle the mysterious jewelry.

* * *

 

In front of St. Louis Cathedral Bridget mindlessly rocks herself until she spots a familiar blonde hurrying over to her. She summons a very amused smile as her date comes to a screeching halt. “I’m so sorry,” Rebekah starts, out of breath. “Keelin didn’t speak a word to Freya during dinner which meant that I had to be even more of the designated shoulder to lean on. I was already looking forward to hearing you play and then in the midst of the family feuding I was betting on our impromptu carriage ride, but I just couldn’t refuse Freya today.” Noting the genuine smile and virtual nonresponse courtesy of Bridget, the vampire cuts her own explanation short. “What are you up to?” In return she receives a light chuckle from the witch shaking her head.   

“Nothing. I’m just waiting for you to stop apologizing so that I can finally show you something.”

“So…you’re not the slightest bit peeved that I practically stood you up twice for the sake of my ever needy sister,” Rebekah questions, smiling.

“Do you want me to be,” Bridget asks.

The older woman steps closer to her on instinct. “I suppose not. But I’m not quite in the business of getting the things that I want. Certainly not in my more intimate relationships,” she claims. Biting her lip, the pureblood frees her hands from her jacket pockets. “There will be other shows, Rebekah. I play at the bar from time to time remember? It’s no big deal. And I mean, am I really gonna decline the family card when it comes to my dear friend with bad timing,” she quips. Rebekah chuckles softly as Bridget lifts her chin, slightly serious. “As for right now I have something to ask you. But first I just want you to listen okay?”

Rebekah quirks an eyebrow but nods accordingly despite her skepticism. “Okay. But what is it? You’re stirring some nerves I must admit,” she states. “Just hold on,” Bridget requests. She happily turns around to retrieve a mahogany guitar leaning against the support of the gate. The vampire brightens in anticipation as she watches the younger woman situating the instrument against her body. “Ready,” the latter asks, peering up. “Yes,” the former answers, nodding. With a childlike grin Bridget begins picking at the guitar strings before crooning to the melody.

“Back on tour

Driving through southwestern towns

I'd been in before

Sun split ember, fields that span both ways forever

 

When I first saw you

The sky, it was such a natural blue

 

Stars from a back porch

They're talkin' but I don't say much anymore

It's old news but if you're asking

Been a long time since I've been moved

But when I first saw you

That feeling, it came over me too

Natural blue

 

Chicory burns grass at your knees

Walk forward from your open wound

Live in dreams, I remain forever

inside the colors you've shown to me

 

When I first saw you

The sky, it was such a natural blue

The sky was such a natural blue

Natural blue.”

Bridget finishes the song with one last strum before taking in Rebekah’s shamelessly enamored gaze. “So…did you like it,” she asks, sheepish smile on her lips. Little does she know that her audience of one was captivated by her voice and the emotion flowing through her so effortlessly during the performance. Rebekah hastily moves in to capture the witch’s lips, gripping the nape of her neck before providing some space between them.

“You wrote a song for me?”

“Actually, I wrote it _about_ you with no intention of ever bearing my soul in song form. But…after doing some thinking today, thinking about how good it feels between us and how much I want this to work, I decided to bring my own private session to you. So, here I am. I don’t know…I’ve been sitting on this completed version for a month or two. It’s kinda mushy and all but the words just came to me over time, so I wrote them down until they became a song.”

Bright blue eyes admire the pureblood for a moment. “Well, it’s an utterly romantic song and I absolutely adore it,” Rebekah affirms. “Are you sure that I deserve such a gesture after today though?” Dark brown eyes pour into her blissful gaze. “Yeah. I do actually. I think we both deserve more than what we’ve been allowing ourselves,” Bridget proclaims before pausing. The blonde tilts her head at the younger woman intently. “Rebekah Trouble Mikaelson, will you join me for our first _uninterrupted_ dinner date at my place one of these eventful nights?”

Rebekah breaks out into an unstoppable smile. “Of course I will. And I promise that things will finally go according to plan this time. You do have your plans all sorted for this long awaited do-over date right,” she inquires playfully. Bridget can’t help but grin excitedly at the original. “As a matter of fact I do. Just don’t expect the royal treatment alright princess,” she jests.

A smirking Rebekah runs a thumb over Bridget’s baby hairs. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it coming from you,” she quips. “Good,” the pureblood retorts, grinning. She rearranges her guitar to rest against her back and motions her head over to a nearby merchant. “Hey, the beignets at that cart over there look pretty good. Wanna grab a couple and enjoy our midnight stroll as planned?” The vampire tilts her head with pleasure. “As a matter of fact I’d love to,” she gladly accepts. Bridget offers her hand to Rebekah who grasps it right away and clasps their fingers as they walk over to the vendor.

* * *

 

“So, school was really good then? Remember that this is a safe place and you don’t have to rush things in order to prove a point if it’s overwhelming you,” Keelin asserts, perched on the edge of the bed. Jordan offers a small smile while resting her hands in her covered lap. “Today was fine and I’m okay. A friend made me feel welcomed and things felt…normal again. If it all goes horribly wrong I’ll tell you okay?” Her aunt mirrors her expression before finally nodding in acceptance.

“Okay. I’m gonna take your word for it. And I guess I should be checking out for the night if you don’t need anything else,” she states, attentive.

Jordan shakes her head as a negative. “I’m fine, really. But I am pretty tired so sleeping sounds perfect right about now,” she notifies. Keelin nods in understanding and leans in to hug the teenager before placing a soft kiss to her head. “Goodnight,” she parts, pulling back. “Night,” the hybrid replies. She watches as her guardian stands up from her spot on the bed and walks toward the door.

“Aunt Keelin.”

The werewolf instantly freezes and turns around slowly in astonishment. Taking a cue from the complete silence Jordan opts to continue. “I just wanted to thank you, for everything I mean. I know that a lot of things haven’t been great. I haven’t been the best at showing how much I appreciate you, but I’ve really thought about it today and…I just wanted you to know that I’m glad to have you in my life,” she admits, slightly lowering her gaze. Keelin gives her a jubilant smile as she quickly processes the unexpected words.

“Well, I can’t tell you how good that is to hear,” she replies with a short chuckle. “But I can easily tell you that I’m glad to have you too. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jordan musters a halfhearted grin that shows the wolf just how hard opening up has been for her. This is obviously a huge step for the girl. “I should let you get some sleep. Call me if you need anything okay sweetie? I love you.” After gazing at the caring woman briefly Jordan nods while looking down at her hands.

Keelin turns around to switch off the light and exits the bedroom, leaving the door cracked. She follows the path burned into her brain and enters her own master suite. There she finds the balcony door open and sighs out before sauntering over to it. Stepping outside, she instantly finds her very quiet wife looking out at the restless city and takes the opportunity to saddle up beside her.

“I might be stubborn sometimes but I’m never too proud to admit when I’m wrong. I was so close to crossing a line earlier so I’m sorry for that.”

Freya immediately shakes her head and turns to face the wolf. “No. If this is anyone’s fault then it’s mine. I’ve been far too easy on Veda, so I apologize for that. I take full responsibility for her actions,” she affirms. “Freya, I know that she means something to you and it isn’t right for me to downplay your connection with her. Somehow you manage to see the good in her where I can’t, and I just have to be honest about it. However, that doesn’t excuse the fact that I could’ve handled the situation _better_ and in front of Mikaela at that. I don’t want our household to become a war zone,” Keelin explains, genuine.

“She’s like the mother I never had, Keelin. That’s important to me and I care about her. But you’re everything I never thought I deserved. When it comes down to it I’ll choose you every time so if that means giving her up then I will,” Freya attests passionately. She shakes her head frantically and grasps Keelin’s hand. “You’re what I care about most in this world. You and our family okay.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow and work things out. Your happiness is mine too remember,” the brunette states. The witch grins while nodding causing her wife to present her own hopeful expression until she picks up on something. “Correct me if I’m mistaken _but_ …is there another reason for the sunny positivity here,” she asks. Keelin struggles to hide her growing excitement.

“Jordan just called me her aunt for the first time ever,” she imparts happily. Freya tilts her head at the news. “What,” she asks, amazed. “Yeah. I was leaving her room and she just said it. Then she said all these things about wanting me in her life. I totally might’ve freaked her out and sent her two steps back by telling her that I love her in a casual setting instead of a dire one but Freya I’m just so happy that she’s starting to come around. I’m just so happy that one day soon she’ll fully accept me as family, her true family and not just some random wolf she was saddled with for life.”

Freya grins widely at her rambling wife. This is the undeniable happiness that she would always want for the amazing woman in front of her. It was all that she deserved and just the sight of it could make every bad thought in her own mind dissipate. “Why wouldn’t she? Anyone would be so lucky as to call you their family,” she reclaims, utterly in love. Keelin tilts her head in that adorable manner and licks her lips. “Can we stay up awhile and look at the stars? I just want to enjoy this for a little bit longer,” she asks, eyes sparkling.

The Viking lifts her chin as she gazes at her optimistic other half. “Why of course,” she grants. Keelin gives Freya an almost shy smile before cupping her cheeks to plant a soft kiss on her lips. She feels a pair of long arms wrap around her back as she breathes the older woman in. They pull back briefly before stealing one last peck and redirecting their gaze to the night sky. Keelin rests her head on Freya’s shoulder and gently kisses the back of her soulmate’s warm hand. In response the blonde presses a lingering kiss to the werewolf’s head before using it to support her own as they look out at the stars.


	3. The Apple Of Your Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya's secrets begin to catch up with her; Keelin hits a roadblock with Freya and makes a discovery regarding Jordan; Sharon sets out to protect her community from a mysterious drug; Bridget and Rebekah eagerly anticipate their alone time; JD and Veda start moving along with plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. Here's where things begin for the first half of the story with our antagonists. It's a rough chapter for Freya in particular but it does lead to a good resolution with Keelin in the next. Also next chapter is Keelin's birthday and Freelin in team mode so that's something to look forward to. ;)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Royal Deluxe - I'm A Wanted Man: Marcel finally confronts JD.
> 
> 2) Caroline Kole - What If: Rebekah talks to Bridget at the compound while organizing her bedroom.
> 
> 3) Natalie Lungley - Secrets: Sharon and Kayla talk.
> 
> 4) Caitlyn Scarlett - Rust: Keelin voices her frustrations to Freya about Veda.
> 
> 5) LAYLA - Weightless: JD and Veda talk in bed.
> 
> 6) Addie Hamilton - Judge & Jury: Sharon visits Michael for intel.
> 
> 7) Rin McArdle - Sirens: Freya encounters Kristin.
> 
> 8) MILCK - Devil Devil: Veda visits the Jardin Gris.
> 
> 9) Patrick Watson - Broken: Jordan and Keelin talk about family.
> 
> 10) Mating Ritual - Song Beneath The Song: Bridget and Hayden talk at the coffee shop.
> 
> 11) Azusena - Clever Gains: Freya and Bridget work on a boundary spell while talking about Keelin.
> 
> 12) Flint Eastwood - Queen: Sharon interrupts Isaiah's meeting.
> 
> 13) Dustin Tebbutt - Give Me Tonight: Bridget and Rebekah's date.
> 
> 14) Agnes Obel - Familiar: Freya comes to see Veda. 
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

Hayden takes a sip of her water while watching an alluring brunette sitting at a mahogany grand piano. A classic tune fills the room as the woman pours her soul into the instrumental. When her fingers dance across a few keys releasing the final notes the brunette slowly opens her eyes. “Wow,” Hayden breathes, standing up from her chair. “Nocturne in E-flat major. Who knew that I’ve been corresponding with the former prodigy, Isla Evans.”

Isla offers a delighted grin and rises from the bench, basking in tranquility. “It isn’t all spells and prayer around here. We do tend to lead our own lives outside of the coven. Mine just so happened to include piano lessons every Sunday from ages three to sixteen,” she quips before briefly peering up at the ceiling. “This manor for example is only a reminder of our history, a tradition. We hold meetings here and perform rituals from time to time, but it hasn’t been inhabited properly since the ‘70s. I feel that women’s liberation kinda infiltrated the old coven culture.”

“Free the witches right,” Hayden remarks playfully. Smirking, Isla walks over to plant herself right in front of the significantly taller woman. “Yeah. So thanks again for bringing our lost artifacts. You’re really a godsend, Hayden.” She reaches out to grasp Hayden’s hand, watching as the bar owner lightly blushes and shakes her head modestly.

“I’m just an ordinary bar owner living a not so ordinary life. But I have friends here waiting on an overdue visit, so it wasn’t a problem making the trip, really.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be holding you up then. I’m sure that your friend wouldn’t be too pleased with you standing her up on your first day in the city.”

“Yeah well she should be counting on it.”

Tilting her head, Isla furrows her eyebrows in question prompting Hayden to supply a sheepish smile. “I might’ve mentioned that I’ve been exchanging a few means of communication with a gorgeous New Orleans witch. Not limited to the conventional sense at that,” the latter explains, shaking her head. “I admit that it’s a bit presumptuous but…” She’s suddenly cut off by a pair of soft lips colliding into her own and reciprocates within a second. Isla pulls back to find awestruck brown eyes gazing at her and eases off the tips of her toes breathlessly.

“It’s safe to say that you presume correctly,” she states seriously.

A sweet grin materializes on Hayden’s lips at the simple confirmation. “Did I mention that I’m in town for a few days,” she asks goofily. Isla chuckles with a short nod of her head. “Yeah, you did actually.” The taller woman nods accordingly. “Well…maybe we can take advantage of one of those days, my treat,” she proposes. Green eyes bore into sparkling brown with an innocent fixation.

“I would really like that.”

The two women grin at each other in attempt to suppress their mutual excitement, ultimately loosing the battle by giggling. Isla awkwardly steps back while scratching her head. “Um, so this is the part where I show you out obviously. Follow me this way,” she directs. An amused Hayden trails her out of the living room and down the hall toward the entrance, passing by various antiques and painted portraits of long deceased members. When they reach their destination Isla opens the door for her visitor. “Well…this is it. You have my number so just let me know whenever you’re free. Maybe I can give you a personal tour of New Orleans,” she states, smiling. “Sounds good. I’ll call you soon,” Hayden replies, smiling back.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” Isla parts, biting her lip.

She watches as Hayden exits the mansion and makes her way down the steps of the porch. After shutting the door the witch strolls down the hallway, heels clacking against the polished hardwood floor as she smiles to herself like a dork. Entering the kitchen she saunters over to the medium-sized cardboard box and begins pulling out some of its contents. A brass candleholder, pocket watch, monocular telescope. Upon moving the last magical item a smaller one is dislodged and comes tumbling down on top. Isla quirks an eyebrow at the unfamiliar jewelry and retrieves it for inspection. The intricately crafted silver talisman already stands out in the collection of mostly copper items, but the murmur of energy that the witch feels radiating from it is unmistakable.

* * *

 

“Hey, Di this is the umpteenth time I’m reaching out so just pick up your phone. I hate to drag you from paradise, but this is important business detailed in all the messages I left before if you actually took a listen. Look, I really need your help so if you could get back to me when you can that would be great. Okay? Call me back when you get this. Alright. Bye.”

Marcel sighs out in near defeat, grasping the back of his head as he looks out at the quiet street from his superior view. “Witches and their extended vacations am I right?” Patrick saunters into the brick-styled office space with a knowing look. “I don’t know why you just won’t track her down and drag her back here in all her stubborn glory. We’re obviously gonna need her with Mr. Biggs out for blood and no powerful witches willing to back us.”

“Hey, she deserves the break alright? And truth be told I’m only calling her back to New Orleans because there’s no other way around this. My old pal JD never rests until he gets what he wants. He was always a go-getter and I doubt that ninety two years spent at the bottom of the river has changed that fact about him. It’s only made him hungrier, so I need to be prepared for anything worst case scenario.”

“Yeah? So why are you going to meet him alone then? You know that he has some witch power propping him up,” Patrick remarks, stepping closer. Marcel turns to him and tilts his head in surprise as the young vampire nods in confirmation. “Didn’t think I’d figure it out huh? Look, Marcel I know you. You can’t seriously be willing to enter the lions’ den without backup.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me but what I need you to do is exactly what I tell you. Your job is all you need to worry about so don’t even try to give me your words of wisdom. It’ll be fine. I can handle a meeting with JD on my own. He likes to toy around with his prey before striking so this is the perfect time to size him up. Unlike him I don’t play with my food. Trust me, I’ve got this.”

“I don’t know man,” Patrick replies, shaking his head.

“I don’t pay you to know when it comes to my personal affairs. But I do pay you to do what I ask for the good of our people. So, do you have your orders?”

“Yeah. I’ve already got a few stray guys and girls in. You’d be surprised by how many poor souls are ready to turn these days. Must be the freedom of the new age or the hopelessness of the generation. Almost makes me miss the last turn of the century.”

“Good. Just keep it up alright? We’re gonna need all the bodies we can get after our loss. There was a time when it took me decades worth of seduction just to steadily grow my faction. You have it easy because now we can just keep vampire blood coming like ice cream. The hard part is over my friend.”

Patrick shrugs in response. “Everybody wants to rule the world I guess,” he quips simply. Marcel pats his shoulder and waves his phone. “Damn right. I’ll see you later okay? Keep things locked down here. We can’t have any more problems especially not due to the mistakes of rookie vampires,” he advises. His right-hand nods accordingly. “Watch out, king.” Marcel strides out of the office on a mission.

* * *

 

An emotionless maid leads the way across the balcony as Marcel spots JD and Veda occupying the table below. The unruly witch is sitting in the vampire’s lap, looking pleased as she allows him to press endless kisses to her exposed neck. She catches the dumbfounded gaze of their new arrival and whispers into her companion’s ear with a smirk. Marcel and the maid descend the steps and stroll through the pathway designated by the perfectly landscaped courtyard to greet the awaiting pair.

“What a pleasure it is to receive a visit from Marcel Gerard on such a refined forenoon,” Veda greets deviously.

“Greetings and salutations my old friend. I do hope you found your way over here alright,” JD chimes in.

Marcel tilts his head slightly with a humorless smirk. “You didn’t exactly stay out of sight now did you,” he remarks simply. JD stares at him with a sly grin and motions a hand to the lavish home. “Did you really expect anything less? I thought you knew me better than that. After all, the French Quarter was always of mutual interest to us both,” he replies, tilting his own head.

“And I see that it didn’t take too long to find a beautiful woman to share all this with. Now tell me, did you two have a good thing going before or _after_ my vampires spent that fateful night rotting in a bar? These little messages to me seem too messy for someone of your style and expertise. I’m guessing it’s all because of the wicked little distraction that fell into your lap.”

An overstated cackle and howl fills the air immediately. “Well, you don’t hold back now do you? I cannot believe that after all this time you’ve still maintained such a good sense of humor. You really got me there,” JD retorts, wagging a finger. “But please. Let’s not talk business when pleasure’s still in the room.” He redirects his eyes to the woman perched on his lap and massages her neck. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you mind leaving us alone for a little bit? I know you’re not one to take too kindly to direction that isn’t your own, but I promise to make it up to you later.”

“I suppose I could grant you this one instance of wasting away precious time to boast your manful acumen. However, I must admit that Marcel’s stout-hearted arrival has piqued my curiosity. Despite his status as my usual bane might I add. I’m suddenly finding myself not so awfully disentranced by what his presence may offer at the moment,” Veda claims, snarky.  “So what might that be, Marcel Gerard?”

JD promptly turns his attention to Marcel who shakes his head in disbelief. “Champagne for my special guest. Right away,” the former orders. The spellbound servant turns on her heels and exits the courtyard without a word. “So, let’s start with your handy work of turning that boat on the river into a crime scene and leaving it. I’m not sure what you meant to accomplish with that move,” the representative states.

“Well, I recall you leaving me two hundred feet deep to rot for nearly a century. Excuse me if I was starved down to the bone. And it would’ve been for an eternity had the poor boys not so kindly dredged me up from the depths of the Mississippi.”

“It might not have crossed your mind at the time but as the guy gunning for my position it was sloppy to leave behind a witness no matter how messed up he was.”

A wide grin is thrown to the guest. “Come on, Marcel. You know that I spared that scoundrel just for you. I wanted you to face what transpired there as a consequence of your past indiscretions. Of course, I also needed someone to operate that junkpile to get me back to shore. But what makes you think that I’d want your pitiful little position as the King of the Bottomfeeders? I couldn’t care less about the current politics going on. My plans are more internal as you might have gathered by the gift I left when I turned your cute little clubhouse inside out,” JD attests confidently. “By the way, how has it been with the sudden loss of loyal membership?” Marcel clenches his jaw but stills himself for a moment. “Doesn’t feel too good huh? Having something so precious ripped away from you at a moment’s notice. I bet Jackie would just love to see you suffering now. It’s only the beginning and I think you know that.”

Veda furrows her eyebrows while looking between the two men. “I’m under the impression that this Jackie is the ill-fated lover that he took from you,” she concludes.

JD simply offers a small smile in response. “So you assumed. It’s a fault of mine as I never told you the full story. Jacqueline was my beloved sister. I shared a womb with her and I had planned to share everything else I could until the end. As you know Marcel thought that I should be complacent being served his leftovers and scraps. He wanted the Quarter to remain child’s play while I wanted more for myself and my family. We all know witches are the greatest beings to walk this earth, even poor old Marcel. He loves his power but deep down he knows where the real strength lies. He couldn’t stand the fact that I had some of the most powerful allies on demand. I gained the loyalty of those who used to fear him, his clients, even some of his naïve followers. But what truly killed his pride the most was the fact that I always had Jackie’s loyalty, above all else. So when he found out about my grievances he gathered the faithful vampires he had left and stormed on my home. I was prepared with three of my most trusted witches and we had him under our feet until he revealed that he had taken my sister hostage. I surrendered, and he murdered my allies before taking me to the docks. There on that cold, foggy night Marcel Gerard forced me to watch my own blood perish. Jackie never loved him, it was all just a game of distraction. And so he daggered her in the heart for breaking his. Right after I was trapped in a coffin full of rats and left at the bottom of the river.” He finally settles his eyes on his foe as Veda watches, engrossed.

“I see where we’re at. You want your revenge and you’ve jumped into bed with the most powerful witch you could find to get it. So what are you waiting for,” Marcel questions.

“I’m afraid that you’ll just have to wait and see. I’m guessing that patience is a strong suit given all the time and effort you’ve put into chasing your regal dream. For now I’m just enjoying being back in my long missed city.”

Marcel lightly scoffs at his words while shaking his head. “The magic I felt affecting me as soon as I stepped into your showboat palace leads me to believe otherwise,” he retorts, unconvinced. JD waves him off with a smirk. “A minor precaution. You know I always like a well-protected chateau and I’ve heard all about that werewolf venom you’re packing in your bite. Thankfully for me, magic tends to prevail. So, if you’re as smart as I remember you to be then you will hesitate to make a foolish move. I won’t be unwinding for too long and I don’t suspect you’ll be taking it easy any time soon…old friend,” he finalizes. Veda hands a glass of champagne over to JD and Marcel watches as he takes a sip.

* * *

 

Rebekah scans her closet space before grabbing a bundle of clothes and chucking them onto the bed. Bridget successfully dodges the flying garments and watches as the blonde trudges over to her opened drawers. “I’m in desperate need of a bloody shopping trip stat. My wardrobe is appearing rather pitiful in this light,” the latter announces. The pureblood rolls her eyes while toying with her necklace. “You’re kidding right? At this rate there won’t be any room left to lay your head,” she reclaims. Rebekah moves to hang a button-up shirt in her closet before spinning around.

“Well, I will find comfort in a darling knit sweater that’s currently in season. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a proper outing to appease my sartorial splendor,” she retorts.

“Sounds like a shopping trip from hell just waiting to happen.”

“Will you come with,” Rebekah asks, tilting her head in an innocent manner. “As much as I’d love to be your designated gal pal to gush over clothes that we can share I do have to meet Hayden remember? She’s in town for a few days,” Bridget states. She watches as the original comes around the bed to stand in front of her. “Last I recall she’s my friend too and I’m sure that she could appreciate a good cause of mine. Perhaps she could even provide actual assistance with my current dilemma.” The witch peers up at her knowingly. “Good luck with that. Hayden loves providing her helping hand, but this situation will take all night and I doubt she’d be overjoyed to stay at the compound for it,” she points out.

“And I suppose that you have a better offer awaiting her then.”

“Yup,” Bridget chirps, smirking. “Drinks on me at my place every night that she’s here, save for our reserved engagement tonight of course.” Rebekah tries to hide her growing smile at the mention of their date. “She won’t be sharing a bed with you too during her stay I hope,” she throws out. The younger woman quirks an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Seeing as my guest room is all set up…no, she won’t be. But excuse me, are you a little jealous at the thought of us being so cozy,” she questions playfully. The vampire bends down to her eye level.

“Perhaps I am a little territorial when it comes to our christened cuddle spot. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to share as you know,” she replies, earning a chuckle in response.

“Well, don’t be. Our spot is secured, I promise. And if you want proof then you’re still free to come welcome Hayden to The Big Easy with me. I picked out this quirky little coffee shop. It’s low key, artistic. What do you think?”

Rebekah takes Bridget’s hands into her own and pulls her up to stand before wrapping the pureblood’s arms around her waist. “I think…that you’re bordering on telling Hayden about our secret relationship. One look at our darling little faces and surely she’ll gather what’s happened between us.” Bridget shrugs while rocking them gently. “Maybe I’m just too preoccupied with spending more time with you to worry about that possibility. Between work, family…we haven’t gotten much of that quality time. And I mean she can keep a secret after all,” she expresses.

“Well, you do present valid points.”

“I do,” Bridget chirps, grinning. Rebekah mirrors the lovable expression before moving in to kiss her softly. The witch deepens the kiss while backing the vampire into the closest wall, feeling careful hands grasping her face. Suddenly there’s a knock on the door and the younger woman vanishes into thin air causing the blonde to sigh out in frustration.

“You may enter so long as you have good reason for hindering my progress here.”

The door is opened slowly to reveal a tentative Jordan peeking through the crack. “Sorry. I was just looking for Aunt Keelin. Mikaela is gone too, and Aunt Freya is still asleep, so I figured I’d try your room,” she explains. Rebekah immediately softens at the sight of the teenager. “No need for apologies, darling. I’m always here to help so what’s up,” she offers. Jordan fully opens the door and enters as she shakes her head. “It’s not a big deal or anything. I just kinda need her help with an assignment for school,” she informs. The original saunters over to her within a second.

“Well, I’m not sure of Keelin’s whereabouts at the moment but I will have you know that I was rather proficient in my studies. If it’s any consolation I’d be glad to assist.”

Jordan offers an appreciative smile. “Thanks but it’s about my lineage and I wouldn’t expect you to know everything there is to know about the Malraux Wolf Pack. I don’t even know where to begin and it’s my own bloodline,” she replies before looking to her feet. Rebekah tilts her head as she gazes at the hybrid sympathetically. “Not to worry. I happen to know quite a bit about Keelin’s folks and you do have her beloved box of keepsakes on standby right?” Jordan peers up at the vampire to nod accordingly and watches as she clasps her hands in conclusion. “So we’ll start there, and I will personally see about Keelin’s current location.”

“Thank you, Rebekah.”

The teenager scans the bedroom overtaken by a mess of scattered clothing before fixing her eyes to the blonde. “Maybe I can help with your clothes after this. Looks pretty serious,” she notes. “Finally, someone around here who understands this delicate situation. I would absolutely love to have your input,” Rebekah responds with a bright smile. “I’ll go get my things,” Jordan notifies. The vampire watches the girl hurrying off before strolling over to her dresser. She picks up her phone to text Keelin and finds a message from her elusive suitor, instantly shaking her head.

 

**BRIDGET SAMUELS**

_Sorry about the disappearing act babe, it’s a reflex. I’m downstairs._

* * *

 

_Sharon follows the path burned into her memory, the rarely ventured hallway on the third floor. She approaches the old wooden door that automatically opens for her. Her eyes fall upon a stone platform occupying the otherwise empty space. Walking over to it slowly she finds the first and only daylight ring she’s ever created. She picks it up to carefully examine the simple diamond birthstone._

_“You shouldn’t be here, Sharry.”_

_Sharon spins around full speed and feels her heart instantly sink as she discovers a teary-eyed Lo staring right back at her. “You always tell me to leave and never come back but I still need answers. Why won’t you give that to me after everything? You left me with all of these questions, Lo. All I have left is this never-ending pain, all of your pain that won’t go away no matter what I do. I can’t get away from it and I don’t understand why so I need you to help me. I need this to stop but I can’t even hate you for everything you’ve done. It’s not getting any easier,” she cries out._

_Lo steps closer to hold Sharon’s face in her hands. “Then let me go, for good this time. No more going back on your instincts. You can’t get away from this as long as you’re holding onto the questions that keep sucking you back into my void. There are no answers here for you. You have to let me go, Sharon. Just let go for both of us,” she commands. Sharon stares at Lo until her own tears begin freefalling from her eyes._

_“I can’t.”_

Kayla snatches the covers back allowing natural and artificial light to beam down on Sharon’s face. “Rise and shine. You’re about seven hours late and you’re not about to score a new record on my watch so get your ass up,” she commands firmly. “I’m not really feeling that great. Just let me take a day off,” the consul whines. She attempts to hide from the harsh light as her right-hand spectates incredulously.

“If you want a day off then just quit, Sharon. No one is forcing you to run this city against your will and I don’t have the time nor energy to take care of you while handling my own duties. You’re hanging by a thread and all the faction leaders know it.”

Sharon instantly opens her eyes to gaze at Kayla nodding in confirmation. “Who’s gossiping behind my back? I bet it’s Marcel and Paige isn’t it. The ironic duo that always seems to know best yet have nothing to back up their greatness,” the former rattles off while sitting up in bed. The latter shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. “He throws a tantrum any time things aren’t up to par with his way of ruling. She constantly throws her two cents into questioning my priorities and emotional capacity. I wouldn’t put it past them to completely discredit me and undermine my authority.”

“It’s not Marcel or Paige for that matter,” Kayla sighs out, exasperated. “Sharon, it’s _you_. You’re the one spending most of your nights drunk off your face or screwing different men that _I_ have to get rid of the next day. I can’t be here to clean up your messes forever. It’s all taking a toll on you, me, everything. Honestly I think that you being in charge of things has run its course.” She shakes her head furiously with a resentful look.

A surprised Sharon examines her closely before a sting shoots through her chest. Genuine hurt settles onto her exhausted features. “Don’t be a bitch, Kayla. You know that I want my job. I care about my people too much to give it up,” she bites fiercely. Kayla throws her hands in the air dramatically. “Then show it! Approaching your duty while hungover isn’t keeping their best interest in mind and you know it. If I’m labeled as the huge bitch just for telling you that then so be it because you _need_ to hear it, Sharon. I’m not one of your spineless lackeys that you can punk around whenever you feel like it. I will always tell you when you’re slipping and as of now I’m done covering your ass alright? That’s the deal here so get over it and step up,” she affirms, frowning.

The consul climbs out of bed to approach the Attaché, both standing their ground. “I’ve never backed down,” she declares fiercely. Her second-in-command walks over to retrieve a dark file folder from the nearest bedside shelf. Then she extends it to her superior who accepts it with an uncertain look. “I have reason to believe that a street drug is going around the Tremé and possibly the Quarter. Maybe there are several. We’ve heard some stories but there’s not much concrete information available since we can’t question the two kids we have connected to it. One of them is in critical condition at the hospital while the other fled before we could get a hold of him. Both are very promising witches and students from good homes, so I find this situation…interesting.”

“You think that young witches are the demographic for a reason.”

“I’m not sure of what I think for right now, Sharon. But I know that our kids are being affected by this,” Kayla replies, stepping closer. “My old neighborhood is the first to go under if this gets bad. It’s already been moving under the radar thanks to teenagers and their secrecy.” Sharon stares at her for a moment before striding over to her dresser. “I have some connections. I’ll go get intel.”

“Of course you do,” the Attaché mutters, watching her superior.

“Look, I’m doing what you just told me to do Kayla. I’m putting my people first, stepping up to the plate. I don’t have time to fight with you so how about you let me fight for them. I know what I’m doing okay,” the consul asserts before pulling her tank top over her head. Kayla crosses her arms with a simple nod. “Okay, but I’m going with you. I was going to set up a team for it, but I thought that you should know first,” she states.

Sharon peers up at her with a look of displeasure. “No. I work alone. Thanks for telling me about this but you’re better off handling your own affairs. It’s what you wanted right?” Kayla unfolds her arms in disbelief. “Sharon,” she begins before being cut off. “I said no. You’re a subordinate so just go about your business. I will handle this on my own. That’s an order,” Sharon declares firmly.

The Attaché tilts her head in annoyance and scoffs at the leader as she snatches her purse from the bed. “So much for being actual partners huh? Just don’t forget who’s been on your side since the beginning,” she maintains with passionate eyes. Without lingering any further she marches out of the room. Sharon grabs her throbbing forehead and sighs out as she plops down on her bed.

* * *

 

Freya tosses in her sleep. Every time she closes her eyes it seems to be the same story playing on a loop in her mind. An enemy emerges, someone is captured, killed, rinse and repeat. And just like that she was constantly forced to relive watching innocent people, even people that she cared about dissipate into nothing. More often than not they were the victims of her own mistakes falling time and time again. Suddenly the feeling of her driving a dagger into yet another undeserving soul sends her springing up into consciousness. Her wide eyes scan over the dimly lit bedroom as she gulps, releasing rushed puffs of air from her aching lungs. Licking her lips she adjusts her position and closes her eyes until her heart rate finally begins slowing to a normal pace.

“You’re safe, you’re okay,” she breathes out.

After a few moments of complete silence the wooden door lightly creaks signaling tired emerald eyes to an intruder. The culprit is revealed to be a chipper Keelin who quietly saunters over to sit at her wife’s bedside. “Hey, sleepyhead. You were starting to worry me with how borderline comatose you’ve been.” She tucks a bundle of blonde locks behind Freya’s ear with a warm smile.

“Sorry,” Freya replies, shooting a glance at the nearby clock. “Why on earth did you allow me to sleep so late?” Keelin leans in to properly greet the Viking with a quick kiss before sitting up. “Well,” she drawls animatedly. “You’ve been working so hard at trying to find a new school for Mikaela and…I feel pretty bad about the search not going as planned so I decided that you deserved a break. We needed some things around here, so I took our little ball of energy grocery shopping while you slept in. I didn’t want her to wake you up, but it seems like the whole idea was a failure regardless since you’re obviously stressing out even in your dreams. Is everything okay?” The werewolf places a hand on her wife’s forehead. “You’re obviously not sick courtesy of your mighty blessing but something is going on.”

Freya tilts her head, feigning annoyance. “Keelin, I’m fine. And yes, because of that _mighty_ blessing that we share…I’m really fine. It’s just a little hot in here,” she reclaims. Keelin drops her hand and tilts her own head at the blonde. “You do know that you’re not married to some gullible wolf right,” she asks. Her partner smirks while interlocking their fingers.

“Right because I have the pleasure of waking up to an incredibly smart emergency doctor every day. Well, when she’s not too busy saving lives or off taming our daughter anyway.” Before Keelin can counter her claims with a snarky comeback Freya softly kisses a favorite spot on her neck. “A very beautiful…” Another kiss is placed on the brunette’s cheek. “And very talented…” She gently takes full lips into her own before slightly pulling back. “Caring emergency doctor.”

Keelin eyes the Viking with a quirk of an eyebrow, failing to hide her massive grin. “Okay, that worked.” Freya lightly chuckles at the wolf finally giving in to her charm. “But I’m still not sold on you relaxing enough. Those are doctor’s orders, Mrs. Mikaelson.” Freya tilts her head, slightly raising her chin in response. “Well, I admit that maybe I could relax a bit more. Perhaps…I even know what will make us both a lot more comfortable,” she proclaims confidently.

Keelin bites her lip at the obvious proposal. “Shouldn’t you be saving all that fun for my birthday,” she asks playfully. Freya moves in to capture her lips again. “Mhm,” she hums against them. “But why make the soon to be birthday girl wait? Surely starting a day early won’t hurt anyone.” Keelin wastes no time ridding the Viking of her shirt before allowing herself to be maneuvered down onto the bed. The couple quickly become enraptured, grabbing at one another while surrendering to their intensifying senses.

 _You are all alone in the prison of your very own mind_.

Freya abruptly freezes and slowly pulls away to hover over Keelin. The latter cracks her eyes open to gaze up at her wife seemingly battling her inner thoughts. “Hey, is everything alright,” she questions, reaching up to grasp the witch’s cheek. After finally opening her eyes Freya silently looks down at the wolf, unable to collect words. Dark eyes examine her closely.

“She’s in your head again isn’t she? Unbelievable.” Freya sits up allowing Keelin the space to stand while shaking her head. “Even in her absence something as simple as making love to my own wife is impossible.” The Viking runs a hand through her hair before quickly reaching out to grab her muttering partner’s hand as she retreats. “Keelin,” she pleads knowingly.

“I thought we agreed on boundaries here,” Keelin speaks up, turning to face her. “For months I allowed her the opportunity to be with you against my better judgement but now she can’t even go a second without trying to take you away from me in some form?” Green eyes soften at her. “Freya, I let that woman into our home. The same woman that cursed you and by extension our daughter centuries ago. I made the decision because somehow you believed that she was worth knowing again. Despite my own suspicions and distrust of her magical return, despite the fact that we had just gotten our life back somewhat I chose to place my trust in you. But clearly what I want doesn’t matter in this case does it? She’s always going to be some shadow looming over you.”

“That isn’t true,” Freya argues, shaking her head. “I chose you through everything remember? And this isn’t even about her. I’m sorry that I was distracted but I want this. I want you and me right now. Can’t we just have that?” Keelin furrows her eyebrows while staring at the conflicted witch.

“I don’t think so, Freya. It’s hard to feel like it’s just me and you when there’s a third wheel constantly rolling right in between us. I really do believe that you want to completely side with me on this, but you can’t. Not when you’re holding onto the mother you never had with all you’ve got. I understand how important that is okay? To gain something so special that you’ve wanted your entire life. Really I do. But I _can’t_ fill a void that big for you, even as your wife. If you need to see her right now then go see her. I won’t bother enforcing ridiculous rules when you’re perfectly capable of making your own decisions at will.” She waits for a response that never comes before shaking her head in defeat. “I’m going downstairs to check on the girls. Rebekah and Bridget are keeping them company.” Looking elsewhere, Keelin makes her way toward the exit and Freya sighs before holding her head in her hand.

The werewolf closes the door shut and clutches the brass knob with a sigh of her own. After a moment of unadulterated sulking she walks to the staircase and descends to the courtyard. There she finds Bridget and Mikaela preoccupied with a puzzle at the dining table while Rebekah and Jordan are sat on the couch, laughing over their work. Opting not to disturb her calm daughter Keelin saunters over to check on the progress of her niece. Two pairs of eyes direct their gaze to her immediately after she approaches.

“Rebekah is actually better at this assignment than me. I’m a disgrace to junior detectives everywhere,” Jordan remarks, smiling.

“You must be joking as the most determined researcher I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. You’ve certainly gotten the hang of it. Hasn’t she Keelin,” Rebekah asks with a grin.

“So I’ve heard. Are you guys sure that you even need me?”

Jordan nods accordingly, suddenly shy. “Um…yeah. There’s a lot here that I’m still not sure about,” she replies, focusing back on her work. Keelin bites her lip while watching the teenager and noticing the subtle shift in the atmosphere, Rebekah rises from her seat. “Well, it’s been intriguing research but now that the expert is here I suppose that I will leave you to it. I must be getting on with sorting through the tragedy that is my bedroom,” she announces. Jordan peers up at her with a soft smile. “Thanks again,” she states appreciatively. The vampire bends down to wrap her into a warm hug with a gentle squeeze. “You’re never a bother, love. Never.” She straightens up, beaming down at the teenager before looking to Keelin who gives her a gracious smile of her own.

“Thanks, Baby Mikaelson,” the wolf offers.

“Any time.”

Rebekah turns and walks past Bridget sauntering over to the pair. “I should be heading out to meet Hayden. But don’t worry, tomorrow we’re partying hard birthday girl,” the pureblood reassures. Keelin grins at her little dance but shakes her head. “Yeah right. I’m a perpetually tired ER doctor and it’s not my 21st. All I want is to be surrounded by my loving family,” she reclaims. “And you will be, babe. I promise. You’ll also be getting my super cute birthday message first thing of course to put all the others to shame.” Bridget grabs Keelin’s face to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek before pulling back with a pleased grin. “See ya tomorrow okay?” Her best friend nods accordingly. “Yeah,” she responds. The pureblood then redirects her attention to the girl watching them. “Be good kid. No making trouble for the lovely lady here alright,” she commands playfully. “Got it,” Jordan confirms before accepting a fist bump from the woman.

Bridget offers one last smile and turns to stroll away. As she approaches the entrance gate she finds Rebekah there leaning against it. “Seeing me out. How polite of you,” she jests. “I am a perfect gentlewoman, or have you forgotten so quickly,” the blonde retorts as the witch shakes her head. “So, I suppose I’ll be seeing you later then.” Bridget diminishes the space between them. “Yup. Try not to drive yourself crazy with the wardrobe. I was thinking that something more casual and cozy will do just fine for tonight. I promise not to disappear this time.” She leans in to press a chaste kiss to Rebekah’s cheek inciting a childlike smile from the original. “I sure hope not,” Rebekah chimes. The two women stare at each other briefly before parting ways.  

* * *

 

Veda straddles JD, kissing him ferociously as he grips her naked back. She bites her lover’s lip and smirks as he begins trailing kisses up her neck. “So, Marcel isn’t protecting some beautiful weakness?” JD nips at the witch’s earlobe causing her to close her eyes. “To my knowledge he has no one that he holds so dear. No beloved siblings, most trusted friend, or precious love. Well, unless you recognize that deplorable original plague in town. Apparently they have a long touching history and were even married for a little while. Though I must say, I’m not sure if she’s his weakness so much as she’s a regret on his enduring list of failures,” Veda divulges. “I take it that you’re not too friendly with this old flame of his are you,” JD questions curiously.

“Nonsense. I can appreciate her wit and pulchritude. And tolerating the wretch beseems me as a figure of panache. I cannot simply ignore the fact that she shares the blood of my little bird.”

“And there it is again, your _little_ bird. You seem to tolerate the rest of the world while you hold her up so high on a pretty pedestal.”

With the slightest scowl Veda abruptly pushes the vampire down by the chest. “And why does that matter to you,” she asks, narrowing her eyes. JD instantly smirks in response. “I was just making an observation, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with it you know. Treating her like royalty, protecting her to the best of your ability. We have that need in common remember,” he reclaims.

Veda tilts her head before pulling the sheets back to climb off of JD. However, the vampire quickly grabs her arm on reflex to stop her. “Where are you going,” he questions, furrowing his eyebrows. “Forgive me if the topic of your brutally murdered sister does little to get me into the mood,” the witch retorts, annoyed.

“Hey. I prefer to remember her as she was in life. And I only told you that tragic story so that you could see the full extent of Marcel’s hypocrisy. I’m the monster yet he executed the woman he loved right before the eyes of her devoted twin brother.”

“And that’s unfortunate for you but no harm will ever come to Freya as long as I am dwelling on this earth. Just because I’m here conversing with you doesn’t make that any less true. You are not my sole means of protecting her despite what your foolish pride may tell you.”

JD tilts his head in interest. “Then why are you here keeping me company instead of watching over her like a mean little guardian angel,” he asks, gaining a shrug from Veda. “For now she’s safe where she is and as for my presence here, I simply needed respite from all of my passionless suitors. The men of this age have no inclination of true sensuality,” the witch reclaims. After her lover releases his grip on her arm she rises from the bed and saunters over to the vanity. She grabs the silk robe resting on top of the dresser and slips into it before gazing into the large mirror as she fixes her messy locks.

“You don’t want to expose your weakness. I get it. So how about we talk about your strengths instead?”

Veda spins around to stare at the vampire blankly. “I was only entertaining your vision of scheming in enchanted concubinage out of pure boredom. Perhaps I even instigated your dramatic feud with Marcel Gerard by validating your point of view, but I will not be inciting some war out of your animosity towards a faction leader,” she affirms. “Your latest actions were foolish.”

“Foolish? Honey, that was the beginning of progress. And I never asked you to start a war now did I? Were you too busy getting lost in my eyes?”

Shaking her head, Veda pads over to sit on the edge of the bed before cupping her lover’s cheeks. “You didn’t have to fix those lips to utter anything of the sort, James. The only way you’re entering Marcel’s domain at this point is to build an army. He is somewhat strategic in his dealings and taking away the cherished elements of his life will only fuel his beastly instincts. I never once asked to become your naïve general.”

JD licks his lips before speaking. “See that’s where you’re wrong. I never really cared for all the prolonged bloodshed of war. Truthfully it’s not much of my style and I don’t really have the patience to keep a bunch of baby nightwalkers in line. At heart I’m still a witch. My mind is forever wired that way you know. And because of that I know it only takes three great witches to bring one overgrown vampire down to his knees,” he proclaims, self-assured.

“You want me to rally two other witches for your revenge plot. Even though it was a failure all those years ago,” Veda surmises. Her crafty lover pets her hair down and moves in closer. “It’s a new dawn and right now Marcel is the one shaking in his boots. You saw him with your own eyes. Commenting on you, questioning me. There’s no way in hell that he’s getting out of this and deep down he knows it. You know why,” he queries smoothly. Dark eyes search his own momentarily.

“I’m not sure but I am certain you will tell me why.”

“Baby, you’re the best there is, straight from the roots of great magic. That’s why I wanted you right away. You don’t subject yourself to these laws and statutes that are beneath you. You’re free. You’re strong, persuasive, intelligent, and graceful. All of the things that make a brother like Marcel uneasy when they’re in the hands of someone like me. Because with all of my knowledge and resources you’re downright unstoppable,” JD declares. Veda quietly eyes him in thought prompting him to continue. “Look, I need you more than you need me. I’m man enough to admit that. But I’m also confident that we can help each other get what we both want.”

“And what is that,” the witch asks. The vampire softens with a look. “Family,” he replies simply. His lover parts her lips and drops her hands from his face. “Do this for me and you will have that. You will have that and more. You can trust that I’m a man of my word.” Veda rolls her eyes at his promise. “I have Freya,” she counters, incredulous.

“Who’s very much committed to someone that hates you. At some point her wife will finally turn her against you and this little truce you have going with that wolf will be over. Ain’t that why you’re here with me?”

Hastily, Veda goes to leave but JD quickly grabs her biceps, bringing her back down to her seated position. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m not trying to throw it in your face or hurt you,” the vampire states, soothing. “I just understand you alright? You want what anybody wants, to belong someplace.” Veda peers up at JD slowly and he tilts his head before running a thumb down her chin. “You deserve that, and you can bet that I’m gonna give it to you.”

* * *

 

An olive skinned man holds onto the wooden frame of an unfinished ceiling as Sharon comes trudging into the abandoned construction site. “You know the drill so get to talking,” the consul greets. “Well nice to see you too, darling. I can tell you’re very serious about this drug you were inquiring about,” the man retorts. He lowers his arms and runs a hand through his thick black curls.

“Well, inquiring minds want to know. So what information do you have for me that you couldn’t give me on the phone,” Sharon questions, straightforward. “Oh, don’t pretend like you didn’t wanna see me,” the man throws back. Light brown eyes roll at him, unamused. “So the drug you wanna know about, it enhances concentration. It’s like a witch’s Adderall but apparently there’s a fatal side effect based on what you’ve told me.”

“We’re still trying to get all the details as you can see. But yes, a kid is in the hospital because of whatever this garbage is. Who’s selling?”

“You’re asking me? The guy that can get you a spanking new TV at half the cost? I work with _tech_ , Sharon. You know I don’t deal with the drug business.”

Sharon tilts her head while scrutinizing the man. “You’re a criminal after _money_ , Michael. Pretty soon your hands will be in just about every business. And if you want me continuing to turn a blind eye to your affairs then you need to do your part. You have eyes all over these neighborhoods, critical neighborhoods. Don’t even try to convince me that you know nothing about this,” she asserts.

Michael grins and shoves his hands into his denim pockets. “Hm, well you make a good point. I couldn’t do this without you that’s for sure. But let’s not threaten our beautiful relationship over this. I could just as easily expose your affairs too. You have more to lose than me remember?” Sharon narrows her eyes before raising a hand to throw him back into the wall with telekinesis.

“I don’t make threats. I give fair warning before I end whatever is in my way. Remember,” she asks rhetorically. Michael winces but finds himself nearly elated by her growing frustration. “Hey now Madam President. As you know I’m kinda fragile here, so you might want to be careful. It would be a shame for you to no longer have any use for your favorite toy,” he retorts, smirking.

“Give me a name or I’ll make your life a living hell,” Sharon orders, tightening her hold.

“If you really want to get down to the bottom of things then just ask your fancy uptown boyfriend about his latest deal!”

Surprised, the consul halts her magic abruptly. “What,” she questions. “Yeah,” Michael replies, nodding. “Did you really think that the expensive suit and tie meant class? It means business, Sharon. For big money he’s willing to put _his_ hands into anything including the mental enslaving of witches, _your_ people. He’s all about racking up valuable property isn’t he? Funding certain programs that do little to benefit anyone but his prestigious family. Don’t believe me? Just ask him.” He raises his chin and Sharon searches his eyes before lowering her hand.

“If this is your way of throwing me off the trail of whatever you’ve gotten into then rethink your big accusation.”

Michael shakes his head in disbelief and treks over to the witch. “Look, I’m just a lowly Robin Hood type of guy okay? I do what it takes to make sure that my people are alright while Mr. Harrington builds an empire off of digging proverbial graves. Hell maybe even literal ones at this point. Just imagine what he plans to do with the Queen in his corner,” he proclaims, grasping Sharon’s face. “When are you gonna realize who’s the better man here? Does he even know the real you? All that fire inside just fighting to get out?”

The furious consul rips his hands away from her face. “You better hope this information holds some merit or I won’t hesitate to take your little operation down.” She swiftly turns to leave but is grabbed by the arm just as quickly. “Don’t be like that, darling.” Michael tilts his head causing Sharon to mirror him. “So you’re the only one that knows about the others. Don’t feel too special about that. It’s only because you’re a bastard with your own fair share of women,” the witch reclaims, inciting a smirk. “See. We understand each other as people that can’t be tied down to anything or anyone. I don’t try to mold you into something you’re not and you don’t expect anything different from me. We’re perfect for each other you know. In more ways than one,” the man concludes. Sharon gazes at him before snatching her arm back and hurrying to leave.

“Don’t think I’m gonna wait forever,” Michael calls after her.

* * *

 

Freya carefully stocks the bottom shelves with glass jars as the bell rings, alerting her to a new visitor. “Just a minute. I didn’t expect anyone on the usual slow day,” she calls. “A slow day in Valhalla huh,” a familiar voice responds. Freya instantly abandons her task to peer up at the tall woman and is rendered speechless. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for a street fight. I just don’t know how long I can keep passing by this place without getting things off my chest. After I’m done you can get right back to your life. I swear.” The Viking promptly stands and gives her full attention to the woman.

“For these last few months I’ve been trying to keep it all together. I’ve been trying to get used to the reality of not having my sister around while you keep making that impossible for me.”

“Kristin…”

The woman closes her eyes and shakes her head before raising a hand to the blonde. “No, don’t do that. Don’t impose your grief on me and don’t try to ease your guilt by pleading for forgiveness. This isn’t about you and I just don’t have the empathy to give,” she remarks before opening her eyes. “You didn’t know her. You never knew her, and you never will. My newborn baby will never know her either.” Freya swallows the anxiety and shakes her head in response.

“What happened to Imani…”

“I said don’t,” Kristin yells out. The older woman instantly shuts her mouth. “Don’t try and act like you can mend this. You get to live your life for what seems like forever as a Mikaelson even when you don’t deserve it. You have your entire family to go home to every day without ever having the thought of losing them cross your mind. I love Jordan to pieces and I pray every day that she gets to keep her family after everything she’s been through. But somehow I still feel this hatred deep down inside of me and I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’m so sorry, Kristin. I never wanted it to be this way for anyone. You have to understand that I tried to save her.”

“Oh, I understand everything perfectly. Out of everyone that could’ve been saved you just had to be the one to make it out scott free right? Don’t lie to yourself. Her life was never going to be a priority for you. I know all about how selfish your family has been for centuries. As far as I’m concerned you did the complete opposite for my sister without consequence.”

Kristin steps forward to stand right in front of Freya. “I know that it’s you funneling anonymous donations into our center in Imani’s honor. You’ve basically renovated my mother’s home too. There’s something so messed up about you being the source of her pain and livelihood.” She leans in while balling her fist. “I don’t care about your desperate need to clear your conscience. I don’t care if you can’t sleep at night for the rest of your miserable life. Stop throwing money at the family you destroyed. The last thing my mother needs is a handout from the woman who murdered her oldest daughter like an animal. It would set her back to know the truth.” She pauses as shining emerald eyes pour into her own dark orbs. “You might have ruined my sister, but her legacy still stands at the end of the day. And that’s without your help so don’t come near my family or Imani’s memory in any way from this point on. Do you understand?”

Freya continues to hold back the tears pricking at her eyes. “Okay,” she accepts, nodding. “I understand.” As soon as Kristin backs off leaving her to solitude she releases the shaky breath that she was holding. She walks over to the checkout counter and retrieves her phone, scrolling past the list of names until she reaches Veda’s. Her finger hovers over the contact for a few seconds before she decidedly locks her phone. After placing the device down on the polished countertop she buries her face in her trembling hands.

* * *

 

“How is it possible to be left this weary after scouring a so called magical hotbed for suitable witches? The only requirement is that they must possess at least half of my artistry and not a fragment of my allurement,” Veda broadcasts shamelessly. The short-haired woman at the register and a redhead employee stocking shelves both direct their gaze to the dramatic brunette.

“Did you try Mae,” the red-haired woman asks.

“And who might that be? The verbose third-tier witch or the far too benevolent sprite?”

“More like the _fashionably delayed_ sorceress loitering outside in a dedicated attempt to find the right body for her cat to inhabit.”

Veda furrows her eyebrows in distaste and the red-haired woman grins widely. “That’s enough joking around, Rachel. Don’t wanna scare off the customers any more than you already have,” the short-haired woman scolds. “Hey, it’s all fun and games. Unless the Queen of the Desert is actually ready to hightail it out of here,” her employee remarks.

“On the contrary a haggard vagrant and her feral pet are the least of my anguish. I refuse to make my swift departure until I’ve uncovered something of good use. Perhaps that would be a Garden District witch with a certain quality of knowledge in this land’s mystical arts,” Veda states. She mindlessly retrieves a charm hanging from the nearby rack. “I recall her name is Alicia Blackman.”

The short-haired woman eyes the brunette who tilts her head slightly. “Sorry to tell ya this but you’re about a couple years too late on asking. I no longer practice any of those forms and as a result even magic itself when it comes to all the enchanted migraines I tend to get. Just ask Rachel, I’m well spent. And business is booming as usual because of it,” she remarks sarcastically, gesturing her hands.

“Forgive me for my lack of discernment but I can’t fathom why a powerful witch would settle for such afflictions. Both are easily curable by your own will.”

“Maybe those consequences simply outweighed the benefits,” Rachel chimes in, shrugging.

Veda looks to her before settling her gaze back on the target of interest. “May I ask for you to elaborate on such claims?” Alicia shrugs while raising her eyebrows animatedly. “Sure. Simply put I got fed up with the joke of a coven hierarchy. But what ultimately became the last straw was all the secrets and sketchiness behind being in a sisterhood. I finally decided to leave, killed my mother and grandmother’s legacy in the process, and took up ownership of the _cursed Jardin Gris_. I seem to be doing just fine on the whole not dying as an owner front, so I can’t really complain here,” she retorts. After processing the information at hand Veda strolls over to the counter with purpose.

“These secrets of your former coven. They must be very powerful if you were unable to tolerate them,” she surmises with little subtlety. Alicia offers a half grin while nodding. “Yeah. Just more sanctimonious crap to guard with my life. It’s a good thing that I no longer have to pledge my allegiance to them. But then again it’s all a blur anyway. Probably for the best right,” she concludes.

“Of course. After all you have this quiet little superstitious shop to defend. However, the more than deserved release of your harbored frustrations would inevitably result in your good fortune. Perhaps torrential customers, ascendancy over this _Cauldron_. It is in my nature to be forthright, so I will tell you now. I could provide you with efficient old enchantments that will keep business booming without those troublesome bouts of agony. Any you’d like in exchange for your utile secrets. Or conversely I could just resort to my masterly persuasions leaving you no choice but to spew your inner thoughts to me. Unfortunately, that would be without a single bit of prosperity offered in return for your abetment. I say it is better to lie on a bed of roses than one of thorns.”

* * *

 

Jordan peers up from her notes to glance at Keelin who’s smiling as she goes through old pictures. Dipping her head once more she continues to scribble down some words until her curiosity gets the better of her. “So…you don’t seem very excited about your birthday.” Still maintaining a smile Keelin looks up at the girl in an instant. “Sweetie, when you get to be my age it all becomes kinda obsolete. It’s like…gleefully numbering my days,” she jokes. Jordan tilts her head seriously. “I don’t think the prospect of getting older is the problem with your birthday, Aunt Keelin.”

The wolf stares into knowing eyes before looking down at the photos in her hands. “You’re right,” she responds, nodding as she fixes her gaze to the girl. “I haven’t even reached half of my life span according to the normal biological process and who knows when that milestone will be with the magic inside of me. I should be happy for the opportunity of living a _full_ life but…here I am.”

“Does Aunt Freya know?”

“Yeah, she knows. We must’ve had this conversation a thousand times since the gang confirmed our status as _semi-immortals_.”

Jordan bites her lip hesitantly for a moment. “I mean…before that. Did you tell her about not celebrating your birthday,” she asks carefully. Keelin furrows her eyebrows at the unexpected inquiry. “Sometimes I…get these feelings, a thought. Since I’ve been here I’ve even had dreams. I think you sharing your things with me started some weird connection. Not weird but just…I don’t know.”

Her aunt offers a small smile of understanding. “Hey, it’s okay. I get what you’re trying to say in so many words. I just don’t want you to focus so much on worrying about me when my job is to look after you. But since you clearly know some things, yes. Ever since I lost my family celebrating yet another year of my existence became less…exciting. I couldn’t ever really accept that they would never get to grow older, so it just didn’t seem fair to me. It wasn’t until I met Freya that I actually tried to be truly happy again and…I figured that the best option was faking it ‘til I made it.”

“So…after all this time you still feel guilty about what happened?”

“I _know_ that what happened to my family wasn’t my fault. It was a horrible situation that I couldn’t have prevented no matter how many ways I try to spin it. I’ve accepted that I had no control over it but still…none of it will ever be fair to me. Pretending to fully enjoy the sweet gestures, gifts, and parties in my honor for the last few years is just my way of balancing that I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Jordan states, shaking her head. Keelin mirrors her immediately. “Hey. What did I say about worrying? Everything is fine, and I promise that I will figure it out eventually. I will do that if you stop taking things on yourself. You’re starting to annoy me with how much you’re just like me,” she jests. The hybrid chuckles while the werewolf crosses the short distance to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a gentle squeeze. “ _So_ you just worry about your project alright? Not this complicated grown up stuff.” Jordan nods as a thought pops into her mind.

“What you call Rebekah…is that a family nickname,” she queries.

“What, Baby Mikaelson? Not really. She’s just the youngest of the rowdy siblings so it kinda stuck for me. Why?”

Jordan shrugs, attempting to appear casual. “I guess I was just wondering if there were any in the Murphy family like that,” she states simply. Keelin examines her closely. “Well…I can’t really speak of nicknames I reserved for my sister,” she begins. Her niece raises her eyebrows while staring at her. “That bad huh,” she remarks. “Yeah. But also a lot of good when it comes down to it,” the wolf retorts. The pair smile at each other. “As for my beloved baby brother, your father, I called him Squirt when we were little. He was so frustrated with the time it took for him to grow taller than me.” Jordan noticeably brightens at the knowledge. “That’s kinda like me and the Nugget. Although she’s definitely taking after her Mama on the height thing,” she affirms, laughing.

“Exactly why we need to stick together. Before we know it the Freyas will be taking over,” Keelin shoots back, laughing along. “But me and Collins were a lot like that when it came to having each other’s back. Although we were close in age my maturity level was years ahead of his with all the pranks he used to pull. I can’t tell you how often I had to bail him out of trouble.”

“Sounds nice having someone there for you like that. I can see that…both of my birth parents had good big siblings looking out for them.”

Keelin watches as Jordan casts her eyes over the wedding band dangling from her necklace. “Hey. I know that it hasn’t been easy but carrying on their legacy by learning about who they were is a big deal okay? I’m so proud of you for embracing it despite the circumstances,” she commends. The hybrid peers up at her with suddenly vexed features.

“Yeah except I still don’t feel like I really know them. I have you to show me my wolf side, but my uncle hid everything from me. I didn’t even know that he had a sister, parents or any family. His inheritance that is now mine came from some old man he worked for. He tried so hard to deny who he was. And because of that the only heritage I knew as my own was just really that of his wife. I’ve spent my entire life being proud of history that’s not even mine. I don’t know anything about the Matthews bloodline. I don’t know anything about my birth mother other than the fact that she pushed everyone who cared about her away before throwing herself from a rooftop instead of raising me.”    

“Honey,” Keelin speaks up, cradling her face. “Things were a lot more complicated than you know. I know that she wanted you but couldn’t be allowed that because of her curse. She loved you so much, but she was young, damaged, and scared.” Jordan gently removes the hands from her face and rises from the couch. “You could also argue that you were all of those things when you decided to be a mother to Mikaela. You had your own curse too. There’s no point in defending someone so selfish. Even in death,” she declares. Silence consumes the courtyard for a few moments. “I think I’m just going to take a break now if that’s okay.” Keelin nods in acceptance while licking her lips. “Okay, sweetie.” She follows the teenager’s retreating form before looking down at the rough family tree perched on the lounge table.

* * *

 

“So, let’s see. You’ve hired an amazing new mixologist from South Korea, collected enough magical items to officially be named ‘Hoarder of the Century, _and_ you’re planning on going to Scotland soon? I think I’m gonna have to bring more than whiskey and good conversation to the table if your stay is to be worthwhile.”

Hayden finishes up her sip of coffee with amusement. “Hey, it’s all for business. And…maybe a _little_ bit of pleasure,” she remarks playfully. Bridget rolls her eyes dramatically. “Besides, if you somehow fail to keep me entertained at least I have a hot date as a silver lining.” With a tilt of her head the pureblood instantly furrows her brows. “Who is it, Faucher?” The bar owner bites her lip, unable to contain her excitement.

“Remember the woman I’ve told you about? The one you ordered me to finally make a move on? Well…she made the move on _me_ while I was attempting to ask her out.”

Bridget summons a wide grin in response. “Well, don’t just leave me hanging here. You’ve been so hush hush about this mystery girl when it comes to her true identity. I was starting to believe that you made her up,” she jokes. “Very funny. I just didn’t want to say too much in case things went horribly wrong. She’s not exactly a nameless figure around here. In fact she’s Isla Evans, acting leader of the Garden District Coven.” Hayden clasps her hands around her cup as Bridget quirks an eyebrow at the new information.

“Wait. You’re head over heels for a witch running a prominent coven?”

“Kinda need a witch to run one of those right? Otherwise it’s pointless,” the brunette jests, chuckling.

“You know what I mean. When you told me she was a New Orleans witch I didn’t expect some wicked boss lady,” Bridget throws back.

Hayden exhales, shaking her head. “It’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it. I mean yeah her position is in fact a big deal. It’s something that she was practically born into. But she’s just a normal person like you and me. She’s still the same girl that loves dogs, babies, hiking at dawn, and a mean Caramel Frappuccino. She’s the one that I can talk to for hours without ever getting bored. I don’t ever feel like I have to second guess myself with her and when she kissed me,” she expresses, pausing for a moment. “Finally being so close to her, no computer screen or astral projection, confirmed this for me. I just want to spend as much time as I can with her. It’s beyond crazy but I’ve found myself thinking that she could actually be that someone just for me.”

Bridget takes the time to search dark brown pools full of sincerity. “Okay, here’s my serious face. I’m happy for you, Hayden. You deserve it all, the babies and Frappuccino, more than anyone I know. If hotshot Isla Evans makes you this much of a lovesick puppy then she’s alright in my book. But just to be clear I won’t have to conjure any hexes in the event of her proving us wrong will I?”

Hayden shakes her head with an unshakable grin. “As far as I know she’s one of your kind. A great person that’s there for the people she cares about,” she states, genuine. Her friend shakes her own head before averting her eyes. “You deserve this too you know? To truly be content, happy with someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them.” Dark eyes flit up at the bar owner.

“I’m confused. Are you still looking to win Isla’s heart or mine,” Bridget queries, arching an eyebrow. It’s Hayden’s turn to roll her eyes at the joke as she laughs along with her companion. “Fine, I get it. No sentimental talks about life and feelings. _So_ , is it wrong to ask what poor sucker without a chance has gotten tangled in your web lately, Samuels?” The pureblood sighs out, feigning disinterest. “I’m just gonna ignore the fact that I’m being likened to a predatory creature,” she announces. “Hey, full disclosure. I went ahead and booked my hotel room in preparation so it’s really no problem,” the bar owner claims, gaining a deadpan look in response. “And now I’m officially complaining about you cancelling our arrangement of fun,” Bridget retorts. Her friend shrugs.

“Sorry. I just figured that you needed some space despite your insistence on playing host. I never want to overstay my welcome, even with you.”

“Never.”

In a brief moment of silence the pair smile at each other. “Well,” Hayden speaks up, dipping her head. “Has _anyone_ caught your eye though? Or should I just continue to assume that you’re still living by the no dating rule?” Bridget bites her lip and soothes it with her tongue before scooting forward in her seat. However, the sound of her phone vibrating against the table’s wood surface stops her short of words. After shooting her companion an apologetic look she grabs the device and unlocks it to view her newest message.

 

**FREYA MIKAELSON**

_Think you could spare some time for a friend? I could really use your help with an important matter._

 

“Saved by the bell huh?”

Bridget peers up from her phone and offers a small smile. “I guess so. Apparently Freya is summoning me for some vague but important task,” she informs. “Well don’t let me hold you up. I know where your loyalty lies when it comes to witch business and I’m sure that I can find something else to occupy me in the meantime,” Hayden insists. “Or…you could just tag along. I’m sure that the Viking witch herself would love to see a friendly face.” The brunette tilts her head at the proposal. “I’m not volunteering myself to be in a witch sandwich comprised of my ex-flings, Bridget.”

“Hey, I promise that it won’t take long. Quite frankly I have my own hot date tonight and though I love Freya dearly, I’d rather not spend my whole evening doing spells with her.”

“I knew it! You have been putting yourself out there.”

“Good, I have your undivided attention now. Please come with me. Please,” Bridget drawls with a pouty face. Hayden supplies a satisfied grin. “Oh, you had me at hot date gossip and spells. The begging was also enough to gain my pity,” she remarks, lifting her chin. The short-haired woman cheeses at the bar owner with success.

* * *

 

In the bell tower, Bridget finishes sprinkling salt around a miniature castle. She dusts the black residue off her hands and looks across the table to check on her friend’s progress. Freya, completely absorbed in her task, is hovering over their setup while mumbling an incantation repeatedly. “So…what exactly are you doing now,” the pureblood asks. Green eyes glance over at her before returning to the various items on the work table. “Still working on the boundary spell. I don’t want to miss anything since we’re using representational magic,” the Viking responds.

“Okay…well can I finally ask why you need one so precise in the first place?”

“ _Well_ , I can never be too safe. Certainly not with everything going on.”

“Everything like what,” Bridget questions, furrowing her eyebrows in concern. Freya halts her actions and takes a moment to properly address her friend. “I don’t know. We’ve had the bounty hunters after my sister, the occasional enemies of the past, and the expected Mikaelson haters,” she sings halfheartedly, shrugging.

“Oh that. Yeah, something’s bound to go terribly wrong in the neighborhood.”

Freya allows a grin to materialize on her lips, but it disappears almost as fast. “Speaking of trouble in the neighborhood…could I seek some romantic guidance here,” she inquires, self-conscious. Bridget raises her eyebrows in surprise. “From me? Have you bumped your head or something,” she questions, tilting her head. The older woman shakes her head before brushing off her jeans.

“It’s just that you understand people and emotions. For various reasons I’m not the best at it even with myself and…I just really hate the place I’m in with Keelin right now.”

“Well, that’s my cue to slip on out,” Hayden pipes up, returning an item to its rightful place on the shelf. “I’ll just…look around the castle of sorcery. If anybody needs me just give a holler.” Freya and Bridget smile at the brunette as she leaves the room before fixing their eyes back on each other. “You know Keelin better than anyone and I trust you. I just need to know how to make things right with her, the right way.” The Viking licks her lips as her companion stares at her carefully. “I know that it’s wrong to even think of Veda before Keelin when it comes to comfort but sometimes I do. Since I’ve known Keelin I’ve been about protecting her from darkness, from _my_ darkness while Veda just gets it. She can handle anything, and I don’t have to hide from her no matter what it is.”

“What are you hiding, Freya?”

The blonde ducks her head while knitting her fingers together. “I’ve been donating money to Imani’s family anonymously.” She peers up to find Bridget gazing at her intently and shakes her head furiously. “I’ve visited her center and…kinda met her mother. She didn’t know who I really was at the time because I used a glamour spell. I just…wanted to know who Imani really was. I wanted to know the person that _I_ singlehandedly destroyed. And what better way was there to see her than through the eyes of her mother?” Bridget nods in understanding and walks around the table to reach her friend.

“You could’ve just told Keelin this. She would’ve understood, and you wouldn’t have had to feel so ashamed,” she states, empathetic.

“No,” Freya protests, shaking her head. “It wasn’t just Imani. I’ve done the same with the others. Funding their causes, learning about their lives before the Kindred. At the time protecting Jordan and making it back to my family were the only options but after everything, after Imani…I just don’t understand why me? Why am I still here instead of all those good people you know?”

Bridget immediately takes the blonde into her arms, holding her tight. “You’re still standing because you’re Freya Mikaelson alright? The fierce Viking witch, the protective big sibling, the loving mother, the honorable wife, and the loyal friend. You’re a survivor and you do what you need to when push comes to shove,” she affirms, easing back to examine her tearful friend. “Listen to me okay? Do you know how much I’ve gotten to see you grow? I knew that you had a big heart when it came to the ones that you love from the beginning. But what I did manage to underestimate was how much your heart could expand beyond your love for family. A complete monster who is undeserving of life itself wouldn’t be capable of that, Freya. So you have to stop believing in this image of yourself painted by the past. And you have to stop leaving Keelin out on the premise of protecting her.” Freya blinks a few times while releasing a ragged breath.

“I’m supposed to be the one to fix everything and keep it all together,” she proclaims, sad smile on her lips.

Bridget tilts her head with her own melancholy expression. “If anything your dependency on Veda should tell you that’s impossible. She makes things easier, more comfortable for you because she’s the ferocious Algerian witch to your fierce Viking witch. You don’t have to feel the weight of carrying everything on your shoulders with her,” she divulges. Freya looks down as the younger woman joins their hands. “But what I’m telling you now is that none of it has to be your heavy burden. Keelin, me, your siblings. We can all share the load.” Tear-stained eyes flit up to her, full of hope but also disbelief. “Look, you asked for my guidance. I understand the void that Veda fills for you and trust me when I say that I’ve longed for a real mother my entire life too. But we both know that she’s not the best thing for your family right now no matter how much we admire certain qualities about her. I’m not sure if she’ll ever be and you already know how Keelin feels about her.” Brown bores into green, stressing their truth. “It’s going to be hard, but I know that you’re not willing to alienate the amazing woman that is your wife. Now is the time to pull her in closer and lean on the bond you both share. That unbreakable bond that I personally admire like no one’s business.”  

A shaky but relieved chuckle escapes Freya’s lips. Bridget supplies an encouraging grin and nods to emphasize her words. She reaches up to wipe a stray tear from the Viking’s cheek and allows herself to be pulled into another hug right after. There’s a short squeeze that lets her know she’s appreciated and she softly sighs before rubbing a soothing circle into her friend’s back.

* * *

 

Isaiah sits at the head of a table, listening to a businesswoman speaking when Sharon barges in unceremoniously. “Are you poisoning my people?” Three pairs of eyes whip towards the source of the brazen inquiry. A dumbstruck Isaiah quickly rises to his feet. “Sharon,” he utters. The consul shakes her head dismissively. “Have you been a part of pushing drugs to the witches? Kids,” she questions fiercely. The businessman looks at her in confusion before immediately rounding the table to approach her head on. Carefully, he grasps her biceps to still her.

“Sharon, can we please just take this outside? I’m in the middle of a meeting and making a scene isn’t necessary okay?”

The witch snatches away, grimacing at the man. “You know that I don’t care about the uptight formalities when it comes to my people. We talk now or I’m taking you prisoner. Right away,” the former demands. The latter raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. Just relax. Everything is fine.” He turns to acknowledge the man and woman still seated at the table with looks of concern. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience but this is an urgent matter. If you could have Coleen reschedule this then I will make it worth your while. Thank you for your time.” Without another word he takes Sharon by the hand and whisks her away to his office. After allowing the furious woman entry first he closes the door and turns around to face her.

“Are you making some grand deal with them too? Under the table of course?”

“What are you even talking about,” Isaiah asks while loosening his tie. “It better be real good for you to come here completely destroying an important meeting.”

“I have intel that says you’re involved in profiting off of _destroying_ my people. So is it true?” 

Isaiah shakes his head, scoffing. “What? That’s a ridiculous accusation. Do you really think that I’d do something like that,” he questions seriously. “I don’t know,” Sharon replies, shrugging. “Truth be told I really don’t know all that much about you, Isaiah. I don’t know who the man behind the suit is.” Her lover moves to plant himself right in front of her, unwavering.

“Well I know how much you care about your people and I would _never_ do anything to compromise that. You should know that by now.”

The pair hold an intense gaze, quietly searching one another’s eyes until Sharon looks away with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry,” the witch apologizes, eyes closed. “I didn’t believe it to begin with, but you know that trust doesn’t come easily for me.” Isaiah cradles her face to redirect her gaze to his own. “I know,” he affirms, nodding. But if you’re not going to trust me then at least hear me when I say that you don’t ever have to expect the worst of me. Business is business, but I’ve never played with fire like that. I couldn’t have it on my conscience and I…don’t ever want to lose you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips Sharon backs away while shaking her head. “Don’t. I’m not going to be some spectacle on your arm or yet another trophy wife for you,” she asserts definitively. “I know that. But would us taking a real step forward be such a bad thing? Think about all that we could be, all that we could accomplish in this city,” Isaiah proposes, impassioned. He walks over to the consul. “Think about all the important progress we could make, _together_.”

“I can’t believe you. Shamelessly pitching some elite arrangement so that you can own New Orleans with the Queen in your corner. In case you didn’t get the memo every other time before our endgame here is not rising as a power couple. In fact it’s nothing at all because I’m done with you,” Sharon snaps. Isaiah fixes his jaw before raising his chin silently. “I’ll see myself out. Don’t bother calling me to work through this because I have more pressing matters to tend to.” The witch strides past the businessman and opens the office door to exit, leaving him to his thoughts.

* * *

 

While taking a sip of her wine Bridget watches as Rebekah forks some noodles into her mouth. “I’m sorry that I had to rush through dinner. Chinese takeout, house wine, and the burnt smell of my failure was not what I originally had in mind,” the former quips. The latter presents an amused grin at her. “For the love of Chinese takeout will you quit your unnecessary sulking? Everything is fine. The refrigerator is considerately stocked with my actual means of sustenance and I do understand that you were needed elsewhere. I could never fault you for being a good friend to my sister. And despite the self-loathing you’ve done a lovely job on our date. All I wanted was to be with you anyway,” she states sincerely. Bridget offers a smile that soon fades away.

“Am I though? Being a good date, being a good friend,” she questions, conflicted. Rebekah throws her a knowing look and sets her carton of food down on the coffee table before scooting closer on the sofa. Carefully, she pulls her date’s hand out from supporting her head causing her to sit upright. “I thought we were past this. There’s no need to be so hard on yourself, love.”

“It’s not that. I just feel bad about her confiding in me out of trust when I’m choosing to withhold my own relationship from her.”

“So you want to tell her about us then.”

“No. I mean _yes_ , when the time is right. I’m just not sure when that will be at this rate. I don’t want to pile more onto her.”

Moving in close, Rebekah gently cups Bridget’s cheeks. “You and me both. But we don’t have to figure it all out tonight you know. At this moment I only see the perfect company, no more family drama in sight. I’m only here with _you_. So is the feeling mutual or have I really misread the entire situation,” the vampire asks. The witch smiles while nodding. “I’m only here with you too,” she reassures. Her date mirrors her in response before kissing her softly. After a few seconds they draw back to gaze at each other.

“So, we agree on having enough downer talk then.”

“Agreed,” Rebekah chimes.

She watches in confusion as Bridget suddenly rises from the sofa, extending a hand to her. “Well then. May I have this dance? I’ve been saving it just for you.” Blue eyes peer up at the pureblood with faux skepticism. “Yes, you may,” the original answers, endeared. She grabs onto her date’s hand and is pulled up from her seat before being led over to the open space nearby.

Rebekah unleashes a hearty laugh as Bridget immediately spins them around, holding her hips tightly. Their playful twirling comes to an end and they rest their foreheads together on instinct. The blonde drags a hand down from the witch’s nape to caress her shoulder as they sway to the faint music. Her lips brush against Bridget’s jaw as she settles into the crook of her neck, instantly feeling intoxicated by the warmth. This is undisputedly everything she has desired for longer than she should have and the built up emotions threaten to explode right inside of her. She can’t recall the last time _human_ contact stirred her heightened senses this way. Flawless soft skin, a lavender aroma, the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat. All that’s left to be reacquainted with is the taste of what lies there just beneath the surface flowing in endless vessels. The unwarranted thought takes her by surprise as those same vessels protrude around her own bloodshot eyes, but she closes them and breathes out softly.

A gentle kiss is pressed to Bridget’s neck soon after as a silent promise and she reacts by gripping Rebekah’s lower back. Little time passes before the couple slowly draws back to regard one another. Deep brown eyes are suddenly beguiled by their profoundly blue counterparts. Giving into the chemicals rousing inside of her Bridget leans in to capture full lips with her own. Rebekah immediately breathes her in as they fight for more of each other. She begins to move backwards after some coaxing but denies the urge to speed up the process. Once in the short hallway the vampire finds her back against a door and finally breaks the kiss. Before she can speak she feels a tingling sensation in her body and abruptly collides on a mattress with a bounce. Realizing what has just transpired the pair are suddenly drunk with laughter in the guest bedroom.

“Is this the newest demonstration of your witchy prowess?”

“I think I might’ve accidentally channeled you.”

“I think so too. Not to critique your magical means of travel but that certainly felt a bit strange.”

Bridget wondrously looks down at the woman underneath her. “Well you did just experience the thrill of defying space babe,” she states, grinning. “I suppose I can’t complain then. If that wasn’t reassurance of your strict focus on me then I don’t know what is,” Rebekah retorts, staring back at her. In seconds she’s sitting up to meet the pureblood halfway in a blazing kiss. A few candles on the windowsill are instantly set alight. Bridget allows Rebekah to swiftly pull her shirt up over her head before tossing it aside. Then she watches as the vampire glides a hand down her side, inspecting the tattoo on her ribs before reaching her hips. They lock eyes for a moment. Bridget slides her hands under Rebekah’s sweater and runs them up her sides to remove the garment. After discarding it she eases the blonde down onto the bed while using one hand to unbutton her jeans. With superspeed Rebekah finishes the task and swaps their positions causing the witch to gasp.

“That is _so_ not as fun as you make it look.”

“I promise that I’m usually rather smooth about it,” the original claims, chuckling.

Bridget pets her hair back before cradling her face in her hands. “I bet,” she retorts softly. Rebekah gazes at the younger woman in awe and leans down to kiss her, clutching her forearm. As their kisses fuel the fire between them she loses dominance and sinks down onto the mattress. The remaining candles dispersed around the bedroom ignite when Rebekah grasps Bridget’s back.

* * *

 

Keelin peeks through the cracked open door, instantly settling her eyes on Jordan and Mikaela occupying the bed. Her little girl is facing her niece while cuddling into her chest. The peaceful scene brings a content smile to her lips. After a brief wait she quietly enters the room and grabs the blanket at the foot of the bed to spread over the twosome. She looks them over one last time before turning around to leave but stops just short of the door when her eyes catch something.

On Jordan's desk is a drawing of Mikaela, so realistic that Keelin reaches out to trace her daughter's features with her fingertips. She picks it up and a downpour of papers escape from underneath it. Cursing under her breath Keelin crouches down to collect the free-flying items, eyes scanning over their contents as she stacks them. Soon she comes across a drawing that is unmistakably a revision of Lucy Matthews wearing her charm necklace.

Tilting her head she wonders how on earth did Jordan manage to perfect the picture down to every last detail. The hybrid had only seen the original photograph once, unable to bear it for long. She, herself, had looked at it multiple times out of intrigue for the troubled girl that left a mark on her little brother's heart. But that was before she had locked it away with the rest of Daryl's belongings. Sighing Keelin proceeds with her task until she finds an index for gravesites. Beyond the highlighted names, crossed out ones, and scribbles is a question scrawled out in tangible frustration. _Where is Lucy Matthews?_

* * *

 

A tall man stands in front of an easel, scratching at his beard as he scrutinizes his work. Finally, he dips his paintbrush in a pool of red and goes to drag it across the canvas when the doorbell rings loudly. Something between a grumble and a sigh leaves his lips before he sets the tool down. Three knocks sound off after, so he lumbers over to the front door and looks through the peephole. Straightening up he brushes his hands against his faded jeans before pulling the door open. Sharon immediately strides in past him while shrugging out of her jacket and crosses the wide distance to toss it on the large bed. 

"You know, sometimes I wish I could be you. Keeping to myself in some tranquil warehouse studio making abstract art," she remarks.

"Naive, surrealism. Anything but abstract," the man replies, grinning.

Sharon returns the inviting expression that diminishes in a second as she saunters over to the artist. "Kayla's approach to running the city hasn't been working for me. I got nowhere sitting in an office after a false lead on the drug case. I need to keep this from becoming an epidemic, Alex. You know what happens if witches are suddenly disorganized," she asserts. Alex grips her shoulder to gently massage it, nodding in affirmation.

"Mass chaos for the city. Just imagine the horror of humans taking over or worse... _werewolves_ ," he jests, widening his eyes exaggeratedly.

Sharon abruptly stills his hand with a displeased look on her face. "My people becoming zombified may be a joke to you but it's not something I take lightly." She rips the artist's hand away and moves toward the bed, but he stops her from grabbing her jacket. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. Just stay, please. I can fix us some drinks and you can vent your frustrations to me. Huh? What about that? Sound good?"

Alex cups Sharon's cheeks in order to establish eye contact and she grips his hips shortly after. "You know that I'm not here to talk," the consul states. The artist searches her eyes finding no trace of the previous emotions and leans down to kiss her. Sharon brings him in closer and backtracks, taking control by pushing him down on the bed. She quickly straddles Alex and recaptures his lips while unbuckling his belt.

* * *

 

Freya follows Veda into the foyer, glancing up at the winding staircase and vaulted ceiling. “I admit to being rather eager for your arrival. I have learned a great deal about an issue you may find too importunate to dismiss. I thought it best to deliver the revelation in person rather than throw such an account into the void of… _texting_ ,” the latter states. Her advancement is halted as she’s turned around by the arm.

“I’m not here for whatever this is. And I can’t get caught up in your schemes so please. Just listen.”

Veda tilts her head while briefly examining the Viking. “Very well then. What words do you bring forth to me, little bird?” Freya bites her lip and knits her fingers together. “You know that I care about you. We have history that I can’t ignore,” she begins. “As do I for you and it’s clear that I am well aware of that truth. We are bonded in more ways than one,” the brunette replies.

“Perhaps that’s not good for either of us in the long run,” Freya remarks with a serious gaze. Veda quirks an eyebrow in confusion and steps forward. “Perhaps this is nonsense spouted by the _true_ keeper of your heart,” she retorts venomously. Sensing the sudden tension the taller woman shakes her head furiously.

“This isn’t Keelin’s doing. It’s my own, Veda. I’ve thought about things, _really_ thought about it all and I realized that the fantasy _I’ve_ been dreaming about is just that. A dream.”

“What do you mean? You’re not making any sense. I gave your precious soulmate a moratorium on our communion, chose to honor that despite her ludicrous notion of it _being what’s best_ , and now you’ve simply come to the conclusion that my presence is a scourge to be dealt with? Forgive me if in my eyes your sudden resolve only alludes to her obvious hatred for me!”

“That deal that we made can never work! Dividing time between you and Keelin? Actually being a decent wife to her while living as your cherished daughter? None of it will ever work because it’s not meant to. I _can’t_ have both,” Freya proclaims, shaking her head. “Because having one means losing the other. Keelin knew that, now I know that, and you _have_ to know that, Veda.”   

Veda closes her mouth and Freya watches with uncertainty, anticipating her next move. “I was revived after centuries of being dust, all because of my connection to you. I was cast out into a foreign land with _no_ one, not one familiar face but your own. You cared for me, taught me the new way of life, even acted as a guide. All of the things that I longed to do for you, little bird.”

“Once upon a time I needed someone. All I had to my name was an evil aunt who wanted to teach me her wicked ways of dealing with life. And once upon a time you could’ve been my chance for a different path. But that’s just not true at this point. Everything is different now. _I’m_ different. I’m not that scared little girl that you need to protect and adore anymore. I’m the protector, a wife and a mother. I have a family, people whom I love more than anything in the world and what they give me in return is something I will never find anywhere else. You have to understand that I can never give that up no matter what. I have to be there for them even if it means forgetting about reclaiming a part of me that I lost so long ago. I can’t be that poor orphan desperately clinging to a mother that doesn’t belong to her. I’m sorry but I just can’t.”

Freya licks her lips as light tears spill from her eyes. Veda gazes at her momentarily before looking elsewhere, raising a hand to open the entrance doors with telekinesis. “You may take your leave now, Freya. I have my own endeavors that call for undistorted effort,” she states, impersonal. Green eyes plead with her for understanding. “Veda,” the blonde tries, reaching for the witch. It hurts her to know that she’s inflicting pain on the woman she has reconnected with over the past few months. There wasn’t too many people, dead or alive, that have witnessed just how vulnerable the ferocious Algerian witch really was deep down inside.

“Leave!”

Freya flinches at the wounded growl and vicious eyes set on her. A gust of wind sweeps through the foyer as Veda breathes out sharply, shoulders rigid. “You’ve made your noble choice apparent so go. Live with it instead of standing here before me, quietly begging for some callow clemency. You are not a helpless mouse but a mighty protector, Freya. And I will not be made to look weak in the wake of your irreproachable epiphany.”

The Viking parts her lips with words on her tongue but instead gives a nod that’s barely present. After she takes the hostile sight of the shorter woman in one last time she turns away to leave. Once Freya is out of sight Veda raises her chin and lets out a scream that shatters the glass in the doors as well as the chandelier hanging from above. Tilting her head she sighs in relief and spins around to saunter further into the mansion.    


	4. Esprit de Corps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keelin and Freya set out to find Lucy's resting place in an attempt to help Jordan gain a sense of peace; Veda carries out her plans through the Garden District Coven; Sharon finds herself thrown into Michael's business leaving Kayla caught between finding her and making progress with their case; Bridget and Rebekah revel in their newest extension of closeness but troubled waters may be ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait but at least this is an even longer chapter haha. Hope you're still hanging in there with me. So this picks up on the same night we left off of in the last chapter. It's just a bit later into the night. To avoid confusion the very first scene is a flashback intercut with Veda talking in present time. I tried a flashback then present time format but it just didn't work with how I pictured Veda's teachings. Fair warning there are some sad/dark moments ahead. Some secrets and revelations start to pop up in this too. But there's Freelin, family, and friendship so as always I hope you enjoy! ;)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Koda & Bijou - There: Veda's monologue; FLASHBACK of Veda reuniting with Freya.
> 
> 2) Charlotte Lawrence - You're The One That I Want: Rebekah experiences a lapse of control and Bridget comforts her.
> 
> 3) Dustin Tebbutt - Wild Blood: Freya and Mikaela bring Keelin breakfast in bed. Freya and Keelin talk.
> 
> 4) Delaire - Belief: Rebekah wakes up in bed with Bridget the morning after their dinner date.
> 
> 5) grandson - Bury Me Face Down: Sharon confronts Michael about his false lead.
> 
> 6) Natasha Blume - Black Sea: Veda visits the Garden District Coven.
> 
> 7) James Bay - Wild Love (Acoustic): Rebekah and Bridget talk in bed before Freya interrupts with a call. 
> 
> 8) Welshly Arms - Legendary: Christian leads Tyson into a trap.
> 
> 9) Marika Hackman - I Follow Rivers: Isla holds a meeting with her coven.
> 
> 10) Wye Oak - Civilian: Freya and Keelin find the Matthews gravesite.
> 
> 11) Robert Jon & the Wreck - Breaker: Marcel visits Josh at Rousseau's.
> 
> 12) Ngaiire - Fall Into My Arms: The vigil for the Matthews.
> 
> 13) Earl St. Clair - Pain: Sharon is forced to witness Michael's torture before Kayla saves them.
> 
> 14) Hozier - Arsonist's Lullaby: Veda receives her answer from Isla; Marcel asks for Bridget's help; Sharon and Kayla discover Christian's body; Alex executes Tyson.
> 
> 15) ZENDR - Skin Deep: Freya presents a birthday surprise to Keelin.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

In the quiet living room a warm fire burns calm, self-contained. Taking a sip of her wine Veda watches them closely as her latest conversation with Freya hangs over her head. She’s willfully unaware of the narrowed eyes spectating several feet away. “What would you have me do,” JD questions from his spot on the couch. “To listen and set aside your pride for both our causes.”

**_Veda fights the hospital staff as they attempt to hold her down to the bed. She frantically yells in distress. “She needs to be sedated,” the doctor calls. With a weary expression his female nurse hurries out of the room, in search of much needed assistance. In her place a male nurse steps up to hold the erratic witch down._ **

"Control. Prudent, obstinate control. Without it chaos would be amassed."

**_Veda throws the doctor into the wall with telekinesis and unleashes a shrill yelp as the male nurse recoils into an unbearable migraine. Suddenly a female doctor comes striding into the room with the female nurse in tow. "Here's our well-adjusted Jane Doe,” the latter alerts._ **

"It is the desire of every man but only few truly embody total dominion over their kingdom. And it is for these reasons and these reasons alone."

**_The female doctor places an oxygen mask on a red-faced Veda as the male doctor and male nurse hold her down. The female nurse readies the needle and pokes Veda's skin, injecting her with the potent drug. "I forgot to mention that she's one of those feisty witches huh?" The female doctor throws her a deadpan look as the two weary men grimace. Veda stares up at the ceiling blinking as she gradually loses the fight._ **

"One must first master the art of conquering their own discipline before they can even dream of pulling the strings of the world in their own right. Learning from failure, thriving from achievement. You must first find the depths and the heights of such areas within yourself. Only then can you attain the wisdom necessary to make proper adjustments."

**_A determined Freya races into the room and lays eyes on the patient in shock before succumbing to anger. Three of the staff draw their attention to her after a moment. "Hey, you can't be in here!" Freya shakes her head, summoning her magic, and pushes her way through to get to Veda's side. At the last second she gazes at the brunette and finds the fury boiling inside of her dissipating as she takes in Veda's helplessness. "It's really you,” she breathes, tilting her head. Veda lulls her own head towards the blonde and examines her with just as many conflicted emotions. "Freya," she whispers into her oxygen mask. "Help...me." Freya bites her lip and watches as Veda's eyes flutter closed. "Okay, we have her heavily sedated. Let them know that Jane Doe is under control." The female nurse practically sprints out of the room. The other three staff members spectate Freya as she roams her eyes over the tubes surrounding Veda, slowly grasping her unmoving hand._ **

"These things are known."

**_Keelin materializes in the doorway to find Freya gazing down upon a slumbering Veda, completely focused on the woman despite the buzzing around them. "Female of Arab descent. She appears to be in her mid to late twenties. No signs of serious trauma but she's extremely dehydrated and possibly mentally unstable." The male doctor furrows his eyebrows. "How did she get here,” he asks. The female doctor begins checking Veda's eyes with a flashlight. "Apparently she was roaming the streets naked, yelling at cars, and looking for a 'little bird' or whatever. Some good Samaritan dropped her off here when she collapsed so she must be feeling a bit cranky this morning after last night's activities." The male nurse quirks an eyebrow. "Seriously. What is on the street these days? Was she snorting fairy dust,” he half jokes._ **

"Immense power, such as complete control, can only be acquired by those who were born with a certain factor. Some say it is a trait or a gene, separate from the rest. A behemoth lurking in their soul no matter how reticent, how timid, how unassuming it may seem at first. This entity is usually foreknown to be indomitable for in time such a presence cannot be kept contained."

**_Freya rolls her aching neck in annoyance before scowling at the man. "A little bit of quiet would go a long way you know. Either that or I could just let you witness the full extent of a powerful witch under great anxiety." The man leans back in surprise and Freya redirects her eyes to Veda's relaxed form. Keelin frowns slightly as Freya closes her eyes muttering inaudible words. Within seconds she trains her eyes to her wife's hand gently squeezing Veda's and clenches her jaw._ **

"But there is one secret above all else."

Veda pauses.

"It is the act of truly reconciling the harrowing pain that resides in one's self. Then using that same pain along with the riveting pleasure to your advantage. Thus achieving a perfect balance. No one shall rearrange, shape, or mold this union of bitterness and bliss but one's own self. The unbending force poured into each act may be no one's doing but your own. You must claim every stepping stone whether it is to be cast in ire or caught in defeat. The only true obstacle is self."

**_Keelin releases the tension from her body, sighing out as she relaxes her shoulders. After a few moments she turns to leave and walks down the hallway, shoving her hands in the pockets of her lab coat with a neutral expression. A short brunette woman hurries to catch up to her, pacing at her side. "I take it they found the infamous Freya since her tantrum is over." Keelin continues marching without even glancing at the nurse._ **

**_"I guess they did."_ **

"Those who understand these things tend to uncover their strength. And those who uncover such strength tend to wield it, rarely with a true honorable will or as they say, the greater good. But always for their own self-serving needs despite those who may protest. For it brings one's most tangible sense of security in life. If you possess dominion over self, your home, enemies, kin, and alike. There is never the fear of losing it all."

Veda spins around from the fireplace with a wine glass in hand, tilting her head at her partner. "So you see my dear James. There is no time for sitting in such disarray about what cannot be changed today. You've spent nearly a century lying in reverie, waiting for your retribution. As I have spent many centuries, one with the earth and far from my own requital. I understand how much you believe in your old scheme carried by a trio of witches, but I can assure you that a new dawn is upon us and I will show you the way. We must only act with undoubted precision if you truly wish to see Marcel groveling." JD lifts his chin and offers a slight grin before bringing a glass half full of dark liquid to his lips. Veda regards the aggravated vampire and taps her nails on the wine glass while lifting her own distinguished chin.

* * *

 

A rhythmic thud pounds away like a foreboding soundtrack to Rebekah’s ears. At this point she can’t even be sure if it belongs to her or the object of her swelling desire. She leaves a trail of firm kisses along Bridget’s throat, tasting the salty light sheen of sweat coating the witch’s smooth mocha skin. The unbearable fragrance of flowers invades her nose and the rest of her senses erupt as the heartbeat grows louder, echoing in her head. Red stains her darkened blue eyes at the inescapable sound. Rearranging her focus from the organ pumping a copious amount of blood Rebekah accepts the eager lips awaiting her own. She devours them with purpose, nearly oblivious to the fangs extruding from her mouth on their own accord. A sharp nip breaks the tender skin of Bridget’s bottom lip causing tiny droplets of blood to form there. As soon as the distinctive taste settles on Rebekah’s tongue she’s flinging herself upright with dilated pupils, feeling the charge of every nerve in her body.

In a blink of an eye she darts out of bed to begin collecting her clothes sprawled out on the floor. An alarmed Bridget sits up, pulling the sheets around her naked body as Rebekah hooks her bra. She watches the frantic blonde scouring the area for the rest of her outfit. “Rebekah, what is it? What’s wrong?” Within seconds she receives a silent answer in the form of the original’s true face.

The image of a predator causes her to touch her bottom lip in shock before glancing at the blood on her fingers. Rebekah shakes her head as her human features reemerge. “I can’t. I have to go now,” she declares, breathing out. Bridget begins rising from the bed in an instant stirring more uneasiness in the vampire. “No! Don’t come near me Bridget, please. I’m afraid of what I might do.”

The younger woman obliges by staying in place as the feelings of chaos and fear wash over her. She gives the owner of such emotions a look of pure empathy. “Rebekah, listen to me. It’s okay. You’re in control and you haven’t hurt me,” she reassures carefully. A teary eyed Rebekah laughs mirthlessly in response. “Yes, for now. But I can’t leave it up to chance. Bridget, your blood is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted let alone craved before. Even with just the slightest drop I feel…empowered. I don’t want to ruin this, I don’t want to ruin you because of my bloody insatiable thirst,” she affirms, sullen.

“Just talk to me. We can figure this out together.”

“That would be awfully hard to do when all I can focus on is the sound of the blood pumping through your veins.”

Bridget licks her lips while gazing at the guilt ridden woman. “I don’t get it. You’ve been perfectly fine for as long as I’ve known you. I’ve never seen you unable to control your bloodlust,” she states. “It wasn’t always so. It took a lot of bloody time and effort to accomplish. I’m not absolved of a treacherous past you know,” Rebekah throws back, causing the witch to tilt her head.

“Of course. What you went through was new territory. I’d never expect that to be easy. I just want to help you in any way that I can.”

The original admires the compassionate woman longingly. “You are new territory for me,” she proclaims simply, but with an air of conviction. A soft smile is gifted in return. “You’re new territory for me too. I mean you’re unbelievably blonde, significantly older, a vampire…original vampire, my best friend’s little sister…” Glassy blue eyes roll at the lighthearted banter.

“And you are a wise cracking, sometimes difficult, always selfless prized witch. But what I mean is that you’re my very best friend and more. I once thought that the stories about finding utter happiness in something as simple as that were merely fairytales bound to be impossible for the foolish girl longing to feel more human. And then you came along, sneaking up on me. I don’t want to lose that because of my wretched curse but perhaps this is a sore reminder of the inevitable.”

Bridget stares at Rebekah in thought for a moment. In all honesty she feels exactly the same. She too has been fighting her own relentless curse for the better part of her life. It always seemed to go one of two ways for her. Either she lost the people she loved to death or the ones she loved eventually realized that being with her wasn’t worth the struggle. The thing about Rebekah that she loves and loathes the most is her ability to care for people with such devotion at length. She loves fiercely and unconditionally despite the risks, even when it’s bound to bring her pain in the end. Though Bridget had attempted to fight both of their growing feelings for each other she was no match for the persistent Mikaelson. All of the repressed hopes, dreams, and pent up emotions were bound to manifest in explosive ways. Especially considering that they are a pureblood witch and an original vampire respectively. Her own magic has been reactive all night so why wouldn’t her counterpart be experiencing the same waves of energy. Of course their mutual passion could prove to be dangerous, but they have the power to work it all out together. She truly believes in that.

“Come here,” Bridget commands. Rebekah furrows her eyebrows. “Did you suddenly forget about the bit concerning your death at my hands,” she questions in disbelief. The pureblood shrugs nonchalantly. “If you trust me then you’ll come over here right now,” she retorts, patting the space in front of her. “I don’t want to lose this either so we’re figuring it out. We can take it slow, one step at a time. Please, just let me try.” Rebekah examines her for a moment before finally crossing the distance to climb onto the bed. “Closer,” Bridget directs. The blonde sighs but moves a few more inches. “Closer.” She tilts her head at the witch incredulously but quickly gives in to the puppy eyes pleading with her. Once they’re in each other’s personal space they hold a focused gaze.

“I trust you,” Bridget reaffirms. She lifts Rebekah’s hand to her lips and graces it with a soft kiss. “Is this okay?” The pessimistic vampire sighs out. “Bridget,” she whines. “This can only work if you trust me. I’m just asking you to do that okay,” the pureblood claims. At first conflicted her date finally raises her chin with a short nod. Bridget looks into her eyes for confirmation before leaning forward to press another kiss to her exposed shoulder, lingering there. “How about this?” She shifts to gently kiss Rebekah’s throat, faintly whispering into her skin as an arm loosely wraps around her lower back. Bridget pulls back to discern the gleaming eyes on her. “Are you still in control,” she questions, rubbing a thumb against the vampire’s thigh. “Yes,” Rebekah answers, nodding.

“I know that you won’t hurt me because I know the real you. You’re protective, caring, _good_. You’re so much more than what you believe you are, Rebekah. Whatever this thing is with my blood, we’ll figure it out and work through it. Maybe this is my own fault somehow. I held back for so long and hid my feelings, denied yours. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes now because this is what I want. I just want you.”

Rebekah studies Bridget in awe before moving in to kiss her softly. The younger woman cradles the vampire’s cheeks until they finally separate to gaze at one another. “I just want you too if that wasn’t obvious enough.” The former reacts with a dreamy smile and the latter finds only honesty between them. “You know that I feel things intensely. Sometimes it feels as if I could go mad with all the emotions constantly boiling over inside of me. I get impulsive and I tend to lack clarity, but one thing is crystal clear. I don’t wish for any more feelings of regret. I’ve cowered and ran, sought out hideaway after hideaway one time too many so perhaps it’s time to make a different choice. The choice to take control of my fears and stay. None of this is your fault and it could never be when all you do is comfort me. It’s just a symptom of my feelings for you and the unstrung consequence of my unduly inconvenient curse.”

Rebekah allows an attentive Bridget to smooth her golden tresses down before reaching her conclusion. “Over the course of my long life I’ve come to expect any and every obstacle designed to work exactly against my happiness, but I refuse to let this be yet another one. Not when I’m so close to having something good that I can taste it.”

“Hey. Even with being on the other side of the coin you don’t know how much I can relate,” Bridget admits, looking vulnerable. Rebekah examines her closely for a moment. The freedom in which the younger woman expresses herself would be the death of her. “I think I do,” she finally replies. “We’re both just reconciling this new territory right? Wanting to be brave enough to embrace it fully.”

“Well, I think we are being pretty brave about this new territory. _You_ are.”

Rebekah reaches up to carefully drag a thumb across Bridget’s bottom lip. “Because I trust you. Even when I don’t trust myself I trust you,” she proclaims, genuine. The witch offers a smile of understanding and grabs the vampire’s hand, holding it in her own. A sweet grin materializes on Rebekah’s lips, enlivened by the ethereal glow of the candlelight before she leans in to kiss Bridget.

* * *

 

“Looks like Mommy’s up just in time for her birthday breakfast,” Freya sings. Sitting against the headboard Keelin wipes at an eye as Mikaela hurries ahead of Freya carrying an antique tray. “Surprise, Mommy! Happy Birthday,” the child greets, excitedly jumping into bed. “Oh my god,” the werewolf gasps. “What do we have here? Is it really all for me, Roo Roo?”

Mikaela nods enthusiastically while grinning. “Mhm. I made the pancakes all by myself! Ask Mama!” She earns an amused grin from her tired mother. “Oh, I will. After I get a kiss from my special little girl,” Keelin chimes happily. She extends her arms to Mikaela who scoots over on her knees to plant a massive kiss on her cheek. Freya brings the tray of food to rest on Keelin’s lap as their daughter cuddles into the wolf’s side. “So…is it true that my precious little baby made these pancakes all by herself?” The Viking kisses her wife before sitting on the bed with a bright smile.

“Of course. She insisted that her Midas touch was necessary.”

“God, she becomes more and more like you each day.”

“I find nothing wrong with that fact,” Freya throws back, pleased.

“Try them, Mommy,” Mikaela instructs.

The couple both grin at their daughter boiling with anticipation. “Okay okay baby. I’m trying them. See,” Keelin assures. She picks up the fork and knife provided to cut into the ridiculously tall stack of blueberry pancakes. Forking some of it into her mouth she is delighted to taste an offering of perfection. “Do you like them,” Mikaela asks, eyes wide. Keelin nods accordingly while waving her fork around. “Mm. Yeah. These are definitely amazing. You’ve done a great job, Roo Roo.” Freya shakes her head at the brunette’s goofy behavior but admires the light springing in her daughter’s eyes. “I knew you were gonna love them,” Mikaela states confidently. “Of course I was gonna,” Keelin retorts playfully. After setting her utensils down she cups the hybrid’s cheeks and kisses her forehead before pulling back.

“Thank you so much for a perfect breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, Mommy.”

Freya bites her lip and clasps her hands together. “Hey, baby girl. How about you go enjoy your own breakfast now before it gets cold. You can go see if Jordan’s up too,” she offers strategically. Hazel eyes instantly light up at the plan. “Okay, Mama!” Two pairs of eyes watch an energetic Mikaela nearly fly off the bed before running out the door in hot pursuit. 

“And there she goes. Remind me to let our little mastermind cook more often,” Keelin remarks, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs. She receives a soft smile in return but can sense the inner turmoil plaguing her wife. Within seconds she’s once again setting her fork down on the tray of food. “So…should I ask what’s going on inside of your head or do you plan on just telling me?”

Tilting her head Freya scoots over to rest by the woman’s side. “Yesterday…we didn’t really leave things in the best place. _Yesterday_ has been our last few months, Keelin.” An eyebrow arches in response. “Well I didn’t expect you to initiate _the_ talk in the middle of observing my own personal holiday,” Keelin quips. “I guess today is filled with more surprises than I had anticipated.”

“I know. Normally I would love to set it all aside to live in this perfect painting of happiness, but I know now that I can’t just do that,” Freya states, shaking her head. “I can’t just ignore the weight of my problems or…diminish the issues standing between us. I want us to be closer than ever instead of slowly drifting apart. So I have to admit that the reason why that is has to do with me. It’s all on me and I just have to finally get this right.” Keelin shakes her head with a sigh. “I don’t want you to do that okay? We’re both in this together and the blame game has never helped anyone.”

“You’re right,” Freya asserts, nodding. “That’s why I have to tell you what’s been really going on with me.” Keelin furrows her eyebrows while slightly turning her head. “The truth is that I haven’t been fully here with you because part of me has been tangled in my guilt. Yesterday I was confronted by Imani’s sister at the shop. Her name is Kristin and she found out about me being an anonymous donor for Imani’s center. I’ve…met her family, unofficially thanks to my magic, and I visit Imani’s grave every other week. I just had to know who she really was, Keelin. Even if it was just the smallest inkling of Imani Singleton I needed to see it for myself. And now that I know who she was and what she stood for…” She briefly lowers her head as fixated brown eyes watch her every move. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t just tell you everything. I know that I should’ve. I know that you’re the one I share everything with, but I couldn’t let this be your burden too.”

“Oh baby,” Keelin coos with a disheartened expression. She removes the tray from her lap and moves in closer to embrace her anxious wife. “Oh my god. I just wish you could’ve let me be there for you. _Really_ be there for you. You know that none of this was your fault okay? And you could never burden me.” Freya breathes out while resting her chin on the younger woman’s shoulder.

“I know that now. I do,” she affirms, nodding.

They draw back with bittersweet expressions, arms still wrapped securely around one another. “You can’t keep these secrets from me ever again, Freya. We vowed to always support each other. I vowed to stand by your side through everything so just let me honor that please,” Keelin attests, serious. Freya nods in agreement, biting her lip. “I promise that I’ll clue you in from now on. I just want us to be okay. I want our family to be okay,” she stresses with a melancholy gaze.

The brunette cradles her face with care. “We’re _okay_. I should’ve given you a chance to express your feelings yesterday instead of jumping to conclusions. Frankly there are things that we can both work on but what matters is that we’re taking them on together. Nothing, and I mean _nothing_ can ever tear us apart,” she affirms. Freya searches Keelin’s eyes and grasps her wrist before meeting her in a gentle kiss. “I love you,” she whispers against her soulmate’s lips. “I love you too,” the wolf responds before drawing back. Green eyes pour into her own. “I know you have something bothering you too. You tossed and turned all night.” Keelin bites her lip before nodding. “So let’s talk about it,” she concludes.

* * *

 

A congregation of men and women gather in St. Anne’s Church. From a pew in the back row Kayla spectates the ongoing prayer as a shadow suddenly looms over her. “I knew you would be here,” a calm voice states. The Attaché turns her head to regard Sharon who’s standing in the aisle looking back at her awkwardly. “Why? Because you know everything unlike everyone else,” she asks.

“No. I knew you would be here because you’re so much better than me.”

“That’s interesting considering I’m just your subordinate remember?”

Sharon sighs and squints her eyes at the sudden ray of sunlight infiltrating them before dropping down in the space beside her partner. “You know that I could never devalue what you truly are. In reality you got the position because you’re a great leader who cares for her people. You’ve kept the Tremé alive and honestly I don’t know how you’ve done it. I’m just a self-centered bitch, Kayla. Only you can handle me and my worsen tendencies. That’s why you’re still here for me despite the trouble. Anyone else, heartless or not, would’ve called a vote to throw me out months ago.” Kayla stares at her while processing her words but remains silent. “Look, I’m sorry for how I treated you yesterday. I was out of line and you’ll be happy to know that you were right. I needed you, but I was being stubborn, and my plan failed because of that.”

“I don’t care about being right, Sharon. Any failure when it comes to protecting our people makes me disappointed, frustrated. I’m never happy about a situation like Logan Caban’s.”

“I’m sorry. It was my mistake. But I’m committed to this,” Sharon asserts.

Kayla winds her shoulder in response. “Maybe all is not lost. I have my own plan to get subject number two. Tyson Jones that is,” she reveals. Sharon perks up at the claim. “And how do you plan on doing that when he’s a runner. A runner that’s been smart about it at that,” she retorts. “Yeah, he’s been as smart as he can be but he’s going to need more.” Light brown eyes beg a silent question. “Christian Ross. He’s the most streetwise kid that I know. Sure he’s rough around the edges but he’s been doing good for himself since Vincent chose to give him a chance. He’s been staying out of sociopolitical schemes, helping out at the Singleton Center. I talked to him yesterday and he agreed to help track down Tyson for me. He’s going to lure him right into my trap.”

“So you’re really going through with this then,” Sharon comments, surprised. Kayla offers a crafty smile. “I hope that last night’s stress reliever did the trick because you’re going to need a lot of patience for this one,” she remarks. “I see that,” the consul retorts. “But I have one more thing to do beforehand.” Kayla nods accordingly and they both look ahead to the group conducting prayer.  

* * *

 

“Keelin.”

“What, Freya,” Keelin throws over her shoulder.

She’s walking on the third floor of the compound as the Viking trails behind her. “Well, for starters you could slow down. I said that I would help bring Jordan some peace of mind but can’t the sudden _urgency_ of springing this on her wait,” the latter questions. “I’m not springing anything on her. I’m just letting her know that I know about her actively searching for her birth mother’s gravesite. Didn’t we just talk about how secrets have no place here? She needs to know that I support her having some type of connection to her family. She needs that link, Freya.”

“Trust me. I understand that more than anyone but maybe it’s best for us to figure all the details out first?”

The pair finally reach their destination and come to a halt. “I couldn’t sleep at all last night after finding this out,” Keelin admits, spinning around to face her wife. “The thought of her calling out for some kind of understanding of who she really is just _kills_ me. When I was her age I was overcome with so much anger while trying to get away from who I am. It feels so wrong to watch her be denied something I took for granted.” Freya tilts her head sympathetically. “And talking to you about it today only reaffirms how much I want more for her. She deserves that, so much Freya.”

Keelin shakes her head but allows her wife to gently cup her cheeks. “Hey. Of course she deserves to know where she comes from. I know how much you want that for her, Keelin. All I’m saying now is that you’ve done your part. You called Sharon for information, you got Josh to look through the storage unit. And now you have me ready to scour this entire city until we find answers. I swear to you that I will find her birth mother’s resting place. I just think that you need to allow Jordan and yourself a break just this once alright,” Freya proposes. Conflicted eyes inspect her.

“You know how much she takes after me,” Keelin remarks. She carefully removes the hands from her face earning a slight frown from the blonde. “She won’t be able to rest until she has those answers. The sooner she has them, the less pain she will have to endure.” Freya stares at her partner but remains quiet. Keelin takes the opportunity to turn back to the door and begins knocking.

“Yeah,” Jordan projects from inside. “It’s me. Just wanted to check in and talk to you,” the werewolf replies. “Um…just a second,” the teenager calls back. Keelin bites her lip and chances a look at Freya who folds her arms while leaning against the wall. “Okay, you can come in now.” Brown meets green one final time in anticipation. Without a word the brunette turns the knob to enter and is instantly greeted by a sizable sketch of her own image. She leans back a little in surprise but grins as Jordan appears from behind the large drawing to present a small black box.

“Happy Birthday,” the girl cheers, smiling.

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything,” Keelin claims, slowly accepting the box. “I did,” Jordan insists. “It’s nothing compared to all you’ve done for me. I know how you feel about your birthday, but had you not been a survivor you wouldn’t have been around to help so many people. You deserve to always remember that so go ahead, open it.” The werewolf can’t help but smile at her niece before following the instruction. Planted inside of the suede jewelry box is a round sapphire with a white gold diamond chain situated around it. Chestnut eyes examine the unbelievably blue stone. “I wanted to get you something that would stand out. That’s why I chose vintage and customized it with your birthstone.” An awestruck Keelin peers up at the teenager.

“How much did you spend on this young lady,” she manages to interrogate.

“Oh…you don’t wanna know.”

Jordan takes in the serious expression of the woman and straightens up. “All you need to _know_ is that it was my completely legal money well spent. I have my savings okay? And…I enchanted it into your ownership. It will always find its way back to you, Aunt Keelin. There’s no point in refusing it when it’s yours.” Tilting her head Keelin scrutinizes the clever girl before finally giving in with a heavy sigh. “Well, I can’t deny that it’s perfect. And you clearly thought this whole thing through without taking ‘no’ for an answer,” she retorts, earning a nod in response.

“We have a strong team spirit going on in this house for your birthday. Everyone just wants to see you happy.”

Keelin beams at Jordan and wastes no time wrapping the hybrid in her warm embrace. “And I am. I’m so happy to have my family,” the former proclaims. The latter holds her aunt tighter until they finally pull away, cheery grins on display. However, Keelin’s delighted expression gradually shifts into a cautious one. “So…I kind of have a surprise for you too,” she notifies. Wide eyes and her own trademark mannerism silently question her. “Last night I came to check on you and I came across your…research. I know about you looking for your mother’s grave.” The wolf pauses to allow her niece time to process. “I, in no way want to invade your privacy but I was picking up the papers from the floor when I saw it. I just want you to know that I’m always here for you. You can always confide in me, about anything.”

Jordan promptly roams her eyes around the room before biting her lip. “And you want to help me find her,” she remarks with a short nod. “I guess now would be the time to tell you that I kinda overheard you and Aunt Freya talking about it. My baby wolf hearing just couldn’t resist.” Keelin raises her eyebrows at the anticlimactic turn of events. “I totally forgot that you had that. Noted for future matters,” she retorts.

“I forget too. It’s gonna take a little bit more time to attribute my impeccable hearing to my werewolf father rather than my superhero abilities. I only caught certain parts though. You wanting me to have a connection to my dead birth mother, me wanting to know where I come from, Aunt Freya agreeing but kinda not agreeing with your actions,” Jordan sing-songs.

“Hey. We both want the best for you and at the end of the day it’s completely your choice. But I can feel how much this is all weighing you down. You have so many questions. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to feel connected to the person that gave you life, sweetie. She will _always_ be a part of you. And whatever you wanna do we’ll figure it out together.”

Jordan knits her fingers together and looks down at her feet. “It _is_ something I want to do,” she begins, peering up. “Visiting her grave, knowing that she’s at peace despite some of my own feelings toward her.” Keelin runs a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. “Okay,” she replies, nodding. “We’re going to find her as soon as possible. And you can finally have some peace as well.”

“If I could use something that belonged to her it would definitely help.”

The pair flit their eyes over to find Freya standing in the doorway. “Preferably something related to her magic, like a talisman or an object she enchanted on her own,” the Viking requests. Jordan and Keelin look at each other before looking to the sapphire necklace in the werewolf’s possession. A shared idea instantly pops into their minds.

* * *

 

The morning light creeps into the bedroom as Rebekah rouses from her distant slumber. While cracking her eyes open a telling yawn escapes her lips and she slowly takes in her quiet surroundings. The arm secured around her waist incites a flurry of memories from the previous night and she smiles while blissfully caressing the warm skin against her own. A dove-like kiss is soon pressed to her neck in response, lingering there. “So she finally wakes,” a velvety voice whispers into the spot right below her ear. Rebekah turns around in Bridget’s arms to discover a sleepy grin reserved just for her.

“So she does. Good morning,” she happily greets.

“Morning.”

Within seconds they’re meeting in a tender kiss, savoring the peaceful moment before pulling apart with two short pecks. “And to think I was so sure you’d be getting to your walk of shame by now,” Bridget quips. She playfully shifts to glance at the digital clock behind her displaying 10:21 AM. Then she promptly lulls her head back over to the woman in her arms. “Before you know it, questions of your whereabouts will arise.”

“Hm. Attempting to rid yourself of me already are you,” Rebekah plays along.

“Not at all. I just wanted to give you a quick shot at freedom before I keep you here until noon.”

“Well, I suppose the tables have turned seeing as I was planning on doing just the same without any convincing. Staying in bed with no interruptions sounds lovely.”

Rebekah hovers over Bridget, grasping her face as she languidly captures her lips. Moments later she breaks the kiss to prop herself up as a delicate hand runs up her spine. “Last night. I don’t know how you managed to make me feel so safe…and in control. I can’t explain it.” The witch draws a soothing circle into the milky skin of the vampire’s back, gazing into bright ocean eyes.

“A little care goes a long way and…maybe a little bit of calming magic to help. But really it was all you. You trusted in me and I couldn’t help but trust in you because I believe in what we have,” she expresses. “As usual you find yet another way to inspire me with words. I should be a bit sick and tired of it by now but here I am wanting more,” Rebekah reclaims, caressing her cheek. Bridget licks her lips and offers a hand to the blonde, instantly clasping their fingers. “So we’ll just stay here like this, taking in the long anticipated peace?” The younger woman nods in confirmation.

“That’s the plan, princess. We can do anything you’d like for now. Then it’s out of heavenly bliss and back to the real world,” she declares, earning a grin.

“Stay put and I mean don’t move a muscle. I’m in need of a quick refreshment according to my untimely appetite,” Rebekah notifies, lighthearted. A smirking Bridget nods against her pillow tiredly, allowing the original to leave a quick kiss on her bare shoulder before slipping out of the sheets to exit the room. Right after she sits up in bed, holding the wrinkled sheets to her chest as she leans her head back with a sigh.

* * *

 

“Just couldn’t wait to see me again huh,” Michael remarks with a sleezy grin. A swift hand strikes him across the face causing him to recoil in surprise. “What the hell were you trying to pull, Michael? Why would you even do something so stupid? You deliberately ruined the progress of my investigation! And for what,” Sharon yells out. While holding his cheek the man briefly scans the desolate construction site before frowning at the consul. “Hey, I wouldn’t do that to you! And I don’t appreciate the accusation being thrown at me. I’ve been trying to help you alright,” he asserts.

“And did you think that CEO Harrington appreciated the accusations hurled at him? Do you think I appreciated your false information?”

“Look, I told you the truth. If you can’t accept that, it’s not on me.”

Sharon steps to Michael fiercely, glaring at him. “If I want it to be then it is. That along with everything else. I warned you about using those imbecilic acts of deception,” she nearly growls. The latter shakes his head in frustration. “Then do it,” he challenges. “If you’re so tough, the big bad Queen of New Orleans as you like to believe, then quit me. I dare you to, on _all_ fronts darling.”

The irritated witch stares up at the criminal pointedly. Dark brown eyes meet a fiery amber. “I just didn’t want you caught up in his miserable lifestyle alright? You know as well as I do that he has his own dirt to compensate for. So I stretched the truth a little. I did that because I really do care about you, Sharon. I _mean_ that alright,” Michael affirms. Visibly easing up a bit Sharon regards the passionate man for a moment.

“Hey, Michael!”

The pair both turn toward the direction of the gravelly voice just as a loud shot fires. Michael suddenly drops to the ground and Sharon widens her eyes in shock. On instinct the witch gestures her fingers, instantly snapping the stranger’s neck. Then she lowers onto her knees beside her former lover. “Michael, Michael.” She shakes his arm and receives some groaning in response. “It’s just my shoulder alright? I’m fine just get me out of here.” Sharon begins helping the injured man to his feet. “Sure you’re fine,” she grumbles. An assault of bullets ring out at them and she quickly leads him through an alternate path. “I’m not dying today for your sins!” Raw materials detonate around them. “Look at you! You’re like a regular savior around these parts,” Michael shouts back.

He allows Sharon to pull him along as they sharply turn a corner, passing by a stack of pipes. Just as they spot an exit a bald, brawny man abruptly stands in their way, colliding the handle of his pistol with Sharon’s face. The consul falls to the ground limp as Michael watches in shock. Within seconds two men are at his sides, roughly grabbing his arms while the other scoops the unconscious woman up.

“Hey! Let her go! Sharon!”

“Shut up. We tried to be fair, but you did this to yourself.”

“I did what,” Michael questions, gritting his teeth. “You did what you did best as a hopeless rat. You stole from me,” the brawny man states, hollow. Michael shakes his head in protest. “This is one big misunderstanding. Just let her go,” he pleads. The leader examines Sharon’s blood-stained features before peering over at the anxious captive, tilting his head in thought. “She killed one of my men and you seem to really care about her. That makes her collateral my friend.” Struggling against the tight grip on his body Michael frowns at the assailant before flitting his eyes over at Sharon’s expressionless face.

* * *

 

A moderate breeze stirs Veda's raven locks as she observes the historical mansion standing tall under an overcast sky. She blows out a whistle, beckoning the front door to open and struts right into the home. Two women quickly meet her in the antechamber with distrusting looks. "You can't just walk in here without an invitation." Veda raises her chin while regarding the Asian woman before looking to her defensive partner and back again.

"And I suppose that you are the loyal peons here to guard this great house of secrets," she remarks.

"You have to leave now. We know all about your work in the Quarter. You might've gotten your way there, but we won't allow it here in our territory."

Three more women approach them from the main hall causing Veda to smirk deviously. "Quell your needless hostility,” she requests, sighing. “I only wish to speak to your leader with civility as opposed to besting a pack of prideful witches." The Asian woman shrugs indifferently. "I'm afraid that your wish is out of the question. You're an outsider, a foreigner. You have no place here so leave before we show you the way out,” she presses.    

Veda sneers at the witches, shaking her head. "You poor mistaken fledglings. I am not the guest you should treat with such enmity. Surely you have gathered that I am capable of a cruelty far worse than whatever your disgraceful sorority could conjure up. And oh don't you tantalize me." She steps forward only to be halted by an invisible force and the witches each hold out a hand in uniform. "Fortifier la barrière," they chant. Annoyed, Veda summons the magic inside of her while concentrating on the energy swirling around in her talisman. The witches feel a shift in power and ready for attack until their visitor passively waves a hand, sending them back with telekinesis. "What a piteous little boundary spell. If you weren’t before, you are now well aware that I could set this manor alight right along with your tainted souls. However, I am a woman of grace and restraint. I assure you that patience is truly a virtue but as of now mine is wearing thin under your defiance."

"You're making a mistake."

Veda fixes her gaze to the brunette glaring at her from the floor. "Then let you be an example to your coven,” she declares. With a neutral expression she begins taking steps toward the witch, each one drawing energy from her. "The subtle ache germinating in every nerve within your body will prove just how worthy you truly are, fledgling. I promise that it can only make or break you. I'd much prefer the latter." Dark veins begin pulsating on the woman’s face and neck as her sisters watch in horror. Just feet away from her prey Veda is abruptly repelled by an unexpected force.

"I think I'd prefer you keeping your magic off of my coven," Isla quips, approaching with a slight frown. Her presence releases the coven member from her affliction with a sharp gasp and her obvious confidence incites joy within an immobile Veda. "Ah. It's about time you stop retreating behind your foolish sycophants. I see that delightful little boundary spells are your coven's specialty." The leader comes to a halt with a hint of a shrug. “And I see that wreaking havoc wherever you go is yours," she throws back. "You wanted me, you got me. What do you want?"

Inches away Veda tilts her head, sudden interest playing across her features. "Just a mere chat. Oh wait, forgive me. More like a request you cannot refuse," she claims, resolute. Isla all but scoffs at her words, shaking her head. "Of course. Start the clock and let’s see how long I’m willing to entertain your obvious delusion of grandeur,” she retorts.

"I want you to forge new weapons powerful enough to rival an original vampire. I am aware of your mighty ancestors and the many forms of magic prevalent among your sisters as well as your dark objects. I want these to be undoubtedly effective."

Furrowing her brows Isla straightens up in disbelief. "No, absolutely not. You're crazy for even riding in here on your black magic fumes with such demands," she protests immediately. "I have little time to deal with your futile opposition,” Veda states firmly. “You must complete this task or by my own word I will destroy everything you care about and watch with glee as it all crumbles right before you. I will do so with knowledge of a dark family secret. One that your faithful coven sought to hide deep within the shadowy depths of your sisterhood. All because it could ruin more than just your bloodline's reputation."

Isla clenches her jaw and steps to Veda fiercely. "I don't take too kindly to threats. Especially not from deranged witches," she notifies. Her antagonist hums in response. "I simply bring truth. It is up to you and only you to comply." The coven leader shakes her head with a huff. "What is it that you supposedly know," she questions while releasing a breath.

"Don't you remember? You were there after all. The night that your dear mother allowed her demon allies to murder Richard and Marie Matthews? Tell me. Was she acting as the honorable coven leader when she swore allegiance to repulsive vampires? Or was it then upon leading her trusting companions to the slaughter?"

"That's enough."

Pleased, Veda holds back as she regards a visibly rattled Isla. "Why do you even need weapons for the originals? They haven't made trouble for the city in years," the latter states. “That is none of your concern,” the former replies. “It is if you want me to poke a nest full of ancient vampires. I need to know exactly what you’re trying to suck me into before I involve my sisters. For the sake of my coven and for the sake of my city.” Veda lifts her chin quietly as Isla stares her down vehemently.

* * *

 

In the unsettling quiet of the study Keelin folds her arms while struggling to maintain her patience. Sensing her anxiousness Freya peers up at her while spreading out a map on the desk. “Hey. I have everything I need here. I’ll find what we’re looking for in no time,” she reassures. “I know,” Keelin replies, nodding. “I’m just…still processing this. You know the fact that I’m actually hunting down the body of the girl my brother impregnated. No big deal.”

Freya tilts her head with a knowing look. “As opposed to what? Actually trying to enjoy a normal birthday…with family,” she questions. Her wife mirrors her expression causing her to sigh before straightening up. “I thought this was what you wanted. For Jordan, maybe even a little bit for yourself. Where did my very eager wife suddenly go?”

“Nowhere,” Keelin practically blurts out. She earns a pair of uncertain eyes on her and unfolds her arms with a sigh. “Everything is fine, and I do want this for Jordan so what are we working with here.” After taking a few more seconds to discern the werewolf Freya breathes out while looking down at the cauldron in front of her.

“Well. With my blood and Jordan’s hair amplifying the spell I should be able to enchant Lucy’s necklace. And when I’m _done_ it should lead us right to her remains. Courtesy of the magical signature found in her bones.”

“What are we waiting for then?”

Keelin slips her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as Freya peers up at her, biting her lip. “Absolutely nothing,” the latter remarks. She retrieves the necklace and dangles it by the silver chain before dipping its garnet stone into the cauldron. “Investigo pro de dominus. Investigo pro de dominus. Investigo pro de dominus.” Then she lifts the item up to hold it over the map, watching as it sways toward the territory marked as Gentilly. Her green eyes instantly find sharp brown ones.

“It’s working. And it doesn’t seem too far, so I’ll take a trip up there to go check it out.”

“I’m going too.”

Throwing a look of disbelief Freya lets out a sigh. “Keelin,” she starts. “I’m going with you, Freya. End of the discussion,” Keelin asserts. The Viking tilts her head but halts her protesting. “I guess I should call Bridget then,” she sighs out. “She’ll gladly look after the girls once she’s all caught up on things.” The brunette frees her idle hands from her pockets and confirms the plan with a nod.

* * *

 

“You have no such plans of ever moving from this very spot. Admit it.”

A knowing grin plays across Bridget’s lips as she gazes into blue eyes, reveling in the calm. “Can you blame a girl? Rebekah Mikaelson forcing me to stay in bed is not an everyday occurrence,” she quips. “I’m sorry but aren’t you supposed to be quite the domineering enchantress,” Rebekah retorts with sass. She strokes Bridget’s naked back and chuckles as the witch playfully scowls at her.

“My sincerest apologies. I just couldn’t resist.”

“Mhm. Well enjoy exploring this smug side of yourself for now.”

“With pleasure,” Rebekah accepts. “But _our_ exploration has been far more fascinating hasn’t it?” She moves her hand up to run an index finger over the tiny black cat hidden behind Bridget’s ear. Lifting up from her folded arms the pureblood grins and turns on her side to properly face the blonde. “You already knew all about that drunken dare I was peer pressured into,” she states.

“Either way it was a welcomed reminder,” Rebekah claims, grinning back. She trails her fingers down to the skin just below the witch’s armpit where a union of the sun and moon resides. Her digits trace over the detailed ink with curiosity. “What about this one? It looks a bit like Mikaela’s old talisman.”

“A bittersweet memory I guess. My mother would always say that I aligned myself with the sun. That I went against the grain and would eventually get burned. How ironic coming from her right?” Rebekah offers a sympathetic expression as the pureblood looks down momentarily. “I wasn’t the great example of societal norms meant to accompany my heritage according to her and I believed it for a long time until someone showed me otherwise. Embracing tradition but also my own thoughts and ideas made me stronger. Once I realized that I got this in celebration of finally being freed from those tired expectations based solely on my blood. And when I first realized what Mikaela was, an anomaly, I saw what I felt personified in this miracle of a little girl. So I crafted that talisman to always protect her. Well, once her fierce Viking mother allowed me to.”

The pair chuckle in remembrance of the past. “Perhaps she saw something trustworthy inside of you. You were someone she wanted on her side. After all no one can deny your nurturing spirit, capacity to forgive, and of course the nearly insufferable compassion for all things. You’re just a pair of wings short of being the true guardian angel here.” Bridget lazily shakes her head in protest.

“I doubt it. But for some reason I did connect with my little munchkin from the first moment I met her. She looked at me like I mattered. Like despite everything in my past I still had a purpose. And…because of her I found a group of people who accept me as I am. Her giving me a place where I belong, a true family. It’s like…fate in a way.”

For a moment Rebekah takes in Bridget’s starry eyed look before arching an eyebrow. “If this is your plan to make me oddly jealous of my sweet little niece then you’re succeeding,” she remarks, good natured. The younger woman giggles in response. “Aww. You poor spoiled princess. There’s enough of me to go around you know,” she teases, delighted.

“Fraid not, darling. You should recall that I’m not particularly fond of sharing.”

“Then don’t waste time while you have me all to yourself, _darling_.”

With a bright smile Rebekah closes the short distance to capture Bridget’s lips. The witch wraps an arm around the vampire before slowly trailing kisses to her neck. Just as they’re easing down into bed a chiming bell and buzzing stops them in their tracks. “And so the blissful romance was short-lived after all,” Rebekah declares in dismay. Bridget gazes at the blonde with a sigh of her own. “I know. But it’s probably Keelin,” she replies. Rebekah nods in agreement. “I suppose you should be answering her then. You’re in no position to keep the birthday girl waiting.”

After one last look Bridget sits up and scoots over to grab the phone vibrating against the bedside table. She can’t help the slight jolt of surprise that passes through her body upon glancing at the contact. “Or…it’s Freya.” Easily reading the shift in tone Rebekah sits up in the sheets but watches quietly as Bridget slides a thumb across the phone screen. “Hello,” the pureblood answers.

“Hey. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but we could really use you at the compound.”

* * *

 

“This is it. Just wait here while I get the book,” Christian directs. He turns around to look at the slim-built teenager behind him, noticing his eyes wandering around the simple living room. An old TV, two futons, a lamp, and a patterned carpet draped across the hardwood floor. It’s obvious that the boy is paranoid looking at how his eyes dart from each detail to the next and back again. “You don’t have to worry about getting caught man. It’s safe here. This used to be my hideout before.” The guest settles his attention on him.

“Before Vincent Griffith got to you right?”

“Right,” Christian confirms with a nod.

“And you haven’t been out here since. Why would you go back to it now and risk everything?”

Christian narrows his eyes while scrutinizing the boy. “People sure do like to talk about me huh,” he questions, only earning a shrug in response. “Well I’m only trying to get my magic back alright? So I’m following through with the cruel and unusual punishment. But after it’s over I’m getting out of here and going about my life. I need money to do that though don’t I? That brings me to my current position, standing here looking at your clueless face. But you wouldn’t know about that would you? About fending for yourself? Kinda hard to even consider that reality when your parents give you everything you want like a little prince.”

“My bad, man. I just don’t wanna get caught up. Too many things to worry about that’s all,” the smaller boy replies, frowning.

Shaking his head Christian releases a sigh of annoyance. “Look, do you want real profit or not? You get insurance from me now, I get the stuff from you later, and we both get paid off this house party. What you’re dealing with and what you do afterwards has nothing to do with me,” he affirms. His guest nods accordingly. “Good.” Without another word he spins around and draws back the curtain leading to the next section of the house. Standing there in the kitchen is none other than Kayla and the boy immediately panics at the sight of her. “Turns out you had a right to be worried. Someone’s looking for you my man.”

“I knew you were playing me, Christian!”

The anxious teen bolts for the door but is stopped several feet away by a sudden force. “Boundary spell. Like I said, I’m only trying to get my magic back. If this helps speed up the process then it’s me over you,” Christian states. Kayla moves past him to approach the distraught boy grabbing at his head. “Hey, listen to me. I’m only here to help you, Tyson. But first we have to talk okay?”

“I don’t have anything to talk about. I don’t know anything.”

“Everyone here knows that’s not true. What have you gotten yourself into, golden boy?”

Tyson shakes his head frantically as tears well into his eyes. “You don’t understand. If I want to survive then I have nothing to tell you. I’m dead if I give up anything,” he sputters. Two pairs of eyes examine him closely. “That won’t happen with the Queen and the Attaché protecting you. We can keep you safe, whatever you need. That’s a promise on both of our lives,” Kayla proclaims. “Yeah? Then where is the Queen at right now? I’m not doing anything unless she’s here!” A frowning Christian folds his arms and looks to Kayla who’s staring at the nervous boy with concern.

* * *

 

Darkness gradually dissipates as Sharon is met with a chill that gives her skin goosebumps. She lifts her heavy head and attempts to grasp it, quickly discovering that her hands are restrained. With a roll of her aching neck she allows her vision to adjust to the light before inspecting the straps hugging her torso. Fear settles into the pit of her stomach until her brain catches up. She straightens up as best as she can and turns her focus to the slightly blurred figure across from her. He’s also tied to a chair, bloodied and bruised. The sight of such brutality is like a horror show for the witch.

“Michael. Are you okay?”

The man winces as he sets his gaze on her but manages a short nod. “Yeah,” he answers, swallowing hard. “I’m just fine, darling. Very worried about you though.” Sharon breathes out in relief, thankful for his alertness despite his swollen face. But those feelings soon wash away as anger infiltrates her body. “Well don’t be. In fact you only ever worry about yourself which is why you’re in this mess and I’m being dragged down right along with you! What have you done now,” she questions furiously. Michael sighs while licking his chapped lips.

“They’re saying that I swiped some weapons from them, but I promise you it’s a lie,” he claims. Sharon furrows her eyebrows before glaring at him. “Since when do you ransack warehouses for guns,” she questions furiously. “I swear to god that I’ve never even thought about gun running or whatever the hell these low-lives are into,” the criminal asserts.

“I don’t believe you. All you do is lie to me and they seem to know you very well from what I gather. You’re a liar and a thief, Michael.”

“I may be a liar and a thief, but this mess is not mine. You hate me babe well get in line because I’m a _very_ hated man. As you can see here I’m an easy target too, the perfect scapegoat. But I never wanted to drag you down with me so can we please just focus on getting you out of here alright? I can take it if it means you’re free.”

Sharon tears her eyes away from the remorseful man to look around the place. They’re in a room with a large window giving them a view of the hallway. There’s no other furniture or items except for a wooden crate and it’s unnaturally cold, like an icebox. She bites her lip, racking her mind for a solution but the more she thinks the more a deep pressure sets on her brain.

“I have to use my magic.”

Michael quirks his good eyebrow as he inspects the injured witch lowering her head in pain. “I don’t know about that. You took a pretty bad hit and you might have a concussion if my instincts have any say,” he remarks. “Yeah, well your instincts are pretty unreliable. You wouldn’t be sitting in your current position giving me that look with your face smashed in if they actually worked in your favor,” Sharon digs.

“Sharon.”

“Shh. Just let me concentrate. This is our only way out and you know it.”

“But are you sure that you’re even clear enough to make it happen?”

“At the moment I have no choice but to make it happen.” Michael closes his mouth and watches as Sharon takes a deep breath to relax her body. “Transférer l'objet. Transférer l'objet.” She continues to chant the phrase softly, allowing even breaths to escape her lungs while keeping her eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

* * *

 

In the lavish double parlor Isla stands before a large group of women. At the last minute a few more pour into the room, so she takes the time to prepare herself with a stoic expression. Once everyone is in their rightful place she clears her throat signaling the beginning of the meeting. “First and foremost I want to show my appreciation to those of you here on short notice. You know it’s not like me to spring a meeting on everyone like this but obviously it’s a very important matter that we need to discuss as a coven. Since gossip seems to spread like wildfire among us sisters I’m assuming that most of you know what this is about.” All of the women look around at each other skeptically.

“You want a vote on what to do about the outsider and her maniacal orders,” a blonde speaks up. Isla fixes her gaze to her in an instant, slightly caught off guard. “Yes,” she confirms, nodding. “Everyone has a right to voice their concerns. We decide as a coven. Always have, always will.” A tall brunette suddenly rises to her feet with a serious look.

“I know she gave you until nightfall to reach a decision so let’s cut to the chase here. A lot of us have already decided that we don’t want to go down for the mistakes of others. With all due respect your mother made one big one all those years ago so why should we have to suffer for it now,” she questions. A shorter woman stands up beside her. “I agree. Isla you know that I love your mom, but this is crazy. Keeping her secret isn’t worth stirring this kind of trouble and she of all people should understand that.” Isla fixes her jaw while knitting her fingers together.

“I’m in charge of this coven and I’m not bringing this to her when her time has been up for a year now. We’re all grown women here so let’s talk it out. You’re worried, scared even. I get that. But when we each came into this coven we all knew exactly what being a legacy meant. It means that we have to carry the weight of those before us just as those after us will do. That includes shouldering the burden of a coven leader’s duty. I, like my mother, am just one moving part of this unit. Without you there is no me and vice versa. We’re a family and we stand by each other.”

“So we’re just supposed to accept this cosmic sized burden like it’s some insignificant task? We have to join forces with that evil witch and possibly incite war because of her Bonnie and Clyde revenge fantasy? I’m sorry Isla but this is where I draw the line. Maybe it’s time for your mother to finally own up to her bad deeds. She helped turn two innocent kids into orphans and cursed one of them to the point of insanity. _That_ is not anyone’s burden but her own. And lucky for her there are no elders left to dish out a punishment. Who’s to say they would have to begin with.”

“It was the early 2000s during a period of peril brought on by the vampires. The witches of New Orleans were less tribal about coven distinction and more judgmental about associating with other factions. So you’re out of line if you truly believe that my mother wouldn’t have been burned at the stake for her sins. Today there’s still a lot for her to worry about. She could lose her connections in the community and face a threat from the Quarter. The last known witch from the Matthews bloodline is also related to a werewolf who is married to a Mikaelson. That could mean triple retaliation if this gets out. _Or_ we could just do this, be done with it, and go about our lives like normal. All guaranteed by Veda. Now I’m in no way defending my mother’s actions as a person and as a fellow witch. She turned on her own kind and that is not something she can ever forgive herself for. Trust me, I know it’s one of her most painful memories. But as a leader of her coven she did what was in their best interest and by extension _our_ own. She couldn’t control how every other coven chose to fight that war, but she could keep her own sisters, even plenty of those not affiliated with them, from the line of fire. For her the burden of being in a position of leadership meant going against two French Quarter witches, sacrificing just two people instead of hundreds. Like her we are now faced with a big decision where the fate of our coven rests in our hands. So, all in favor of creating these weapons?”

Half of the women in the parlor raise their hands, some more reluctantly than others. Isla scans the room for a brief moment. “And who is strictly against this?” The opposing half raise their hands and the coven leader is met with a clear divide. “Well, it’s not surprising that I’m the tie-breaker here. I’m sure you all know that due to a vow we all made as a sisterhood I’m choosing to protect one of our own. Past, present, or future. We don’t need to make an unnecessary enemy out of the French Quarter or their Lady Terror. I think we can also agree that one less original vampire in the world is progress. Then the invincible Beast being put away for good means more longstanding peace and prosperity for us. Balance will be restored.”

“Yeah, in theory. But how are we supposed to make these weapons, even with our power? This is a Mikaelson we’re talking about. They don’t fall so easily. Even the Ancestors failed to keep them down all this time.” Isla looks around at all the uncertain faces anticipating her direction. She reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulls out a silver amulet to dangle before their eyes.

“With the help of the witch that gave life to the original vampire.”

* * *

 

 _HEBREW REST CEMETERY_.

The name hangs over them, designed into the rusted black gate that is partially open and beckoning them to enter. They can almost hear it in the whistling wind. Freya turns her head to check on the woman beside her. "Are you ready," she asks. Keelin nods her head before finally establishing eye contact. "Yeah." A slender hand is offered to her and she immediately accepts it as she begins the trek. The couple pass through a shelter reserved for visitors and continue down the concrete path laid out for them, one focusing on the necklace pendulating in her possession while the other roams her eyes over the columns of graves lining both sides of them.

Before long the garnet stone sways to the left and bursts with a white light, effectively gaining their attention. "It's over here. We must be close," Freya alerts. Detouring from the pathway she leads her wife down a column as the magic in her hand intensifies. "It's that one," Keelin directs, staring into the distance. Freya looks at her before following the length of her pointer finger to a tall headstone a few feet away. As they close in on the plot of land the names etched into stone confirm their discovery. The journey comes to an end and darkened green finds shimmering brown.

"They were all buried here together."

Keelin holds their gaze for a moment longer before suddenly stepping up onto the platform in front of them. A whirlwind blows through her curls as she lowers onto her knees, gazing at the headstone. RICHARD MATTHEWS. MARIE MATTHEWS. LUCY MATTHEWS. "Keelin." The wolf barely registers the cautious voice at first, too busy descending into the hopeless thoughts calling out to her. Eventually she responds with a shake of her head as she reaches out to drag a finger across Lucy's name. Memories of her own family's demise hit her all at once culminating in a single tear rolling down her cheek. In her heartbroken state she fails to notice the manifestation of her emotions until an arm gently wraps around her shoulders.

"You don't have to do this," Freya offers softly.

"I don't but Jordan does. I'm worried that she can't handle this. She's lost so much already, and this is just another reminder of how alone she is. Both of her bloodlines were reduced to nothing."

The Viking shakes her head in protest, bringing her partner closer. "No. She has something to look forward to. She has family, two aunts that love her so much and a cousin that practically worships her because of how good she is. She has the rest of our family, loyal and always willing to protect her. Keelin, you have to know and truly believe that she will go beyond being just a survivor. She will live the full life that she's meant to all thanks to you." Those final words rattle through Keelin's skull. How could they ring true when she can't even allow herself a full life apparently? She doesn't even have the will to pretend and convince herself otherwise. The guilt she feels is unmatched.

"I despise my birthday, Freya."

Keelin fixes her gaze to the blonde looking back at her with confusion. "Like I loathe the special attention, the whole idea of forcing myself to be happy and to celebrate yet another year of my life when my own family didn't get that privilege. My grandmother didn't get to enjoy her retirement. My parents didn't get to grow old with each other. My sister didn't get her happily ever after with her son and the man she loved _so_ much, Freya. And my baby brother...he barely settled into his adulthood before life was snatched away from him." She shakes her head at the reality of the situation. "He didn't even get to meet his beautiful little girl and be the father that I know he could've been to her. I _know_ that I'm meant to carry on their memory by moving forward along with our daughter and Jordan but..." She shrugs with a humorless laugh as more tears begin to fall. "This is just one way I can't do that. Living this _full_ life."

Freya tilts her head with an empathetic gaze and brings her into a warm embrace. Neither of them speak another word as they both let the revelation settle in the air between them. "Why didn't you ever say anything," the blonde finally asks. She pulls back from the hug to supply her full attention as her wife sighs. "Because it was something personal and I didn't want to strike up a pointless mission to change it. It just is what it is."

"It isn't pointless, Keelin. How you feel and how losing your family has affected you could never be so insignificant. Not to me, not to everyone else that loves you. I understand the reasoning behind why you think you can't fully enjoy life while carrying a burden this big. I mean you've talked me into truly living how many times now?"

Keelin rolls her eyes at the lighthearted question. "Probably like a thousand times," she reluctantly answers. Freya raises her eyebrows with a tilt of her head. "Yeah, sounds about right. But who's counting?" Her wife gifts a watery chuckle in response causing her to smile a little. "Look, I won't push you to do anything that you don't wanna do. That includes accepting the fancy gifts or attending the expensive dinners, enduring the parties that you hate. We can go with what feels right and I will support whatever that is going forward okay? It's one-hundred percent your decision." Keelin searches emerald eyes, feeling an insurmountable love radiating from her soulmate. "Thank you," she breathes, cupping Freya's cheeks. "For being so amazing, even during a breakdown brought on by my everlasting survivor's guilt."

"You've given me unconditional love through everything. You've seen me at my worst and stood by me even when the future didn't look so bright for us. So believe me when I say that I am honored to see you through birthdays and breakdowns, hell or happiness, the guilt and the greatness. I will _always_ strive to be what you need in times like these because we are everlasting," the witch attests, grasping the hands on her face. The pair stare at one another with pure devotion before leaning in to a faithful kiss. Moments later they're resting their foreheads together.

"Maybe...if you feel up to it we could do something for them in place of the less than eager birthday plans," Freya speaks up, licking her lips. Keelin pulls back slightly to examine the blonde as she motions her head toward the tombstone. Biting her lip she allows a small smile to take up residence on her features. It isn't a total surprise that the older woman is in tune with her emotionally charged thought process. She was always studying her quietly any chance she got. "Yeah. I think we could." Freya smiles back with a nod, silently championing Keelin. The brunette rests her head against the witch's shoulder and they both look to the evidence of a family once lost.

* * *

 

"Sharon, this is the last damn time I'm calling you. I can't believe you're blowing me off at a time like this. No wait, I actually can because it's the _only_ thing I can ever expect from you. But you don't care about how unacceptable and unprofessional and just downright selfish it is do you? Of course not. You're more worried about picking your poison for the day. Well congratulations. I no longer have the energy to care about your destructive behavior or what you choose to do with your life from now on. See you when you finally decide to show at the office. It just might be the last time you lay eyes on the place. _Bye_."

After ending the call Kayla stuffs her phone into her purse. Anger and frustration pulsates through her veins as she plants her hands on the countertop, leaning over it while releasing a heavy breath. "I would ask if everything is cool, but it looks like you're about five seconds from going off. I guess being in charge ain't what it's all cracked up to be." Turning her head Kayla is greeted by Christian standing in front of the curtain quirking an eyebrow. With a sigh she maneuvers her body around to stand upright.

"I don't expect you to understand."

"Understand what? That you're taking care of a little girl in power boots? I'd be pissed too if that was the person living on my hard work. Who knew that Sharon Vance was more useless than Vincent Griffith?"

"You talk a lot of talk you know. It’s hard to believe you like doing anything else."

Christian grins with pleasure. "What's the point of having knowledge if you can't share it with the rest of the world? I tell people what they need to hear even if it's too much. It's a part of making change. Change their minds, change their ways. In this case I don't really need to do that though huh? Seems like your mind is already made up." Kayla narrows her eyes at the male witch suspiciously. Her hand suddenly extends out, palm facing up. "Unless you're taking up back alley journalism give up the recording hotshot." Christian shakes his head but before he can deny the implication a bracelet materializes into the woman's open palm. He watches in confusion as she draws the object closer to her questioning eyes.

"What is it?"

With her other hand Kayla carefully inspects the gold plated bracelet, finding Sharon's name inscribed on the inside in cursive letters. She peers up at Christian and shakes her head in disbelief. "It's Sharon. I have to go find her." The Attaché stuffs the bracelet into her jacket pocket and grabs her purse before striding over to the teen. "Can I trust you to keep a close eye on Tyson? He can't leave this house no matter what," she affirms, looking him dead in the eye.

"I can handle a sheltered kid in bad business. I got you," Christian assures with a resolute nod. Kayla returns the gesture and grips his shoulder. "You know, you were supposed to be a gamble for me," she remarks. The male witch nearly rolls his eyes as the Attaché smiles at him before swiftly departing.

* * *

 

Southern rock music pounds against the walls as lively patrons converse over their drinks. Marcel cuts through the tables to arrive at the dimly lit bar and slaps a palm on top of the counter. "Looks like business is booming," he projects over the music. Josh spins around from the assortment of alcohol to greet him with a half-grin. "Uh, _yeah_. It only took all you can eat hot wings and sexy newborn vampires stepping into town." He sets a small glass on the counter and pours some golden liquor into it, cringing in seconds with a shake of his head. "And those were two words I never wanted to put together." Grinning, Marcel accepts the offering pushed over to him. "You're welcome." He proudly lifts the drink in the air and takes a sip before setting it back down. Dark eyes scrutinize him for a moment.

"Of course the sexy baby vamps are your little minions."

"Josh, they're my loyal soldiers. I only suggested that they took a minute and enjoyed themselves, see what this city truly has to offer them. Maybe I even mentioned having a drink at my favorite spot."

"Right," the bar owner responds, nodding. Marcel tilts his head at the dripping sarcasm. "Hey, can't I support a friend? It's been awhile since we last spoke and I just thought it was time we'd change that," he claims, scooting up on his stool. "And then some." Sighing, Josh folds his arms across his chest. "Sure, buddy. What else did you have in mind," he questions expectantly.

"I need a favor."

"Yeah you do. What kind?"

"I need Bridget for a job. I know about your little operation with her, knocking around the city on a mission to serve its citizens. And she's your good friend so I figured..."

"That I'd be willing and able to put in a good word for you," Josh intercepts, gaining a nod of confirmation. "Well for starters our operation must not be very little if the Beast is checking for us." Marcel lifts his chin but remains quiet. " _And_... our rules apply to anyone. As long as your request meets them accordingly I don't see why Bridget would decline. It's not like you guys have a problem do you?"

Marcel shakes his head negatively. "Nah, we're cool. I helped her out a few months back," he informs. A pair of eyebrows raise at him. "Then I will let her know that you were asking," Josh offers simply. He watches closely as the visitor pushes his glass over to him. "How about you do that now? Your customers appear occupied for the next hour or so." The bar owner tilts his head. "She's probably already at this thing in Gentilly by now," he supplies. Marcel shrugs in response. "It's fine. I can just swing by to talk," he insists.

"Gonna be pretty hard to do that when it's a small family gathering with the Mikaelsons. I'm assuming you didn't get your invitation in the mail."

"Understood. _So_ …when will you two be open for business then? It's very important that I talk to her as soon as possible."

"Well...I'm supposed to meet her later at the cemetery, so I guess you can tag along and try then. But I really hope you're not trying to recruit her for something completely sketchy."

Marcel waves a hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I have a feeling that she'll be interested in this. She sees the bigger picture like I do." He looks past Josh for a moment, tapping his fingers on the countertop before redirecting his gaze. "But anyway, thanks Josh. You're a true friend, I really mean that. Unfortunately all my free time has just been spent so I have to get out of here. See you tonight though." Josh nods accordingly. "Yeah," he mutters as Marcel rises from the stool, winking before walking away. "You're a _true_ friend, Josh. Not like I haven't heard that one before."

* * *

 

Jordan kneels before the tombstone as she sets a candle beside two others. Her hands fall to her knees and she rubs the fabric of her jeans while watching the flames dance within the glass jars. For some time it feels peaceful as she exists in the quiet looking up at the speckled night sky, but a mindful grip on her shoulder draws her back into the present situation. Slightly turning around she discovers Keelin staring down at her with the utmost care. "Everyone's here, sweetie." Jordan nods and grasps the hand offering to help pull her up.

Once on her feet she walks hand in hand with her aunt to meet the group congregating nearby. Many faces turn their attention toward her, offering silent greeting and warm smiles of support. She even notices that each person is holding their own individual jar. "We're all going to be right here by your side no matter what," Keelin promises. Jordan looks at the wolf and nods before allowing her to embrace her. Afterwards Freya approaches with Mikaela holding her hand and they both hug her. She musters a smile while pulling away from the mother and daughter, thanking them with her eyes. Then she looks over at Bridget and Rebekah hanging back patiently. Crossing the short distance the pureblood instantly wraps her into her arms, followed by the original gripping her hand and giving it a squeeze. The couple steps aside allowing Jordan an unexpected view of Jasmine and Taylor.

"I hope you don't mind me inviting Jasmine. I thought you could use a friend," Freya explains, knitting her fingers together. To her pleasure she receives a grateful smile in return. The two girls hurry over to one another and embrace as everyone watches with endearment. "Tay wanted to come and show support too," Jasmine reveals as they pull apart.

Right on cue the male witch steps forward extending a wilted flower to Jordan. He chuckles lightly as the hybrid arches a skeptical eyebrow at him. "It's a symbol of renewal." In seconds the dead plant springs into a vibrant magenta flower. "I thought it would be a good reminder for you to have. Some great things might wither away but other great things bloom in their place. You're a fighter, Jordan. Their legacy is safe in your hands." A perceptive Jasmine tries to hide her grin from the obviously smitten Taylor while Jordan accepts the gift with appreciation.

"Thanks, Tay. It's beautiful."

"Don't mention it," the boy insists, grinning.

The conversation settles, and Freya clears her throat to gain everyone's attention. "Before we all cast light onto the memory of a family I just wanted to speak on how much love and light I've found in this one. I'm thankful that despite how difficult this is to face we've all come together to support not only Jordan but her history. Two bloodlines live on through her, each strong in their own right. And though they no longer remain as they were before, they will never be forgotten." She shakes her head and fixes her eyes to Jordan. "I am proud of her and more than grateful to call her family as I'm sure that all of you are. So, I think it's only right that we follow her example of resilience, compassion, and bravery."

The hybrid sniffles a little as her family and friends gaze at her wondrously. "Geez. Don't make it sound like I'm receiving a medal of honor, Aunt Freya." A shared laugh spills throughout the group. "What your cuddly Viking guardian here is trying to say is that we admire how you make the best of what you've been dealt. And we can only learn from that," Keelin supplies, grin on her lips.

"Yeah," Freya adds, tilting her head with a smile of her own. "You're stuck with us kid," Bridget affirms, beaming. "We love you, Jordan!" Mikaela throws her hands into the air inciting more laughter. "Okay okay. I get it guys," Jordan responds. " _Thank you_. I'm lucky to have all of you here for me and..." She looks around at each face. "I think I'm ready for what comes next." Rebekah saunters over and extends a jar to her. "Of course you are, love. And we'll be right there with you, every step of the way." She gives a short nod and grins as Jordan accepts the candle.

"Incendia," Freya and Bridget intone in unison. Suddenly the area around them brightens revealing two tall torches. "Enflammer la cire," Jasmine and Taylor chant, breathing life into everyone's jar. Taking a deep breath Jordan slowly begins walking forward. Stepping up onto the raised earth she closes the few feet left to reach the Matthews tombstone.

"I don't know who you really were, but I promise that I will find out. You deserved more and yet you couldn’t even have your memory left behind in the world. Every trace of you shouldn't have been buried like this. My uncle was wrong to think it was for the best," she whispers. A breeze flows through her thick tresses like a satisfied response summoning a sad smile from her. She bends over to carefully place the candle on top of the tombstone and straightens up.

Within seconds she feels the warm presence of company on both sides of her as they each decorate the grave with their own candles. By the end the site is illuminated in honor as the spectators gather in silence. Jasmine and Taylor share a glance before taking hold of Jordan's hands on either side. The latter keeps her eyes trained on the display but rests her head on her best friend's shoulder. Keelin watches the trio while leaning onto the support of Freya who kisses her temple before looking down at their daughter. Mikaela is holding the Viking's hand in both of her own, seemingly transfixed by the golden beacon of hope. Bridget bites her lip in thought until a soft hand slips into her own. Turning her attention to the right she finds Rebekah offering a halfhearted grin and they share a moment of melancholy before looking ahead.

* * *

 

A heavy fist pounds into his stomach. Another one collides with his chest soon after freeing a desperate wheeze. The two henchman back away giving him space as blood pours from his mouth. “Now I’m gonna ask you one more time,” one of them notifies. “What did you…” He grabs Michael by the hair to hold his lulled head in place. “Do with…” His free hand is brought to the captive’s bullet wound. “The guns.” A wide thumb presses into the small hole vigorously. Both men laugh boisterously as Michael screams out in agony.

“Stop,” Sharon yells out, horrified by the torture. Her captors both turn their heads to glance at her, one removing his thumb from the victim and shoving him back in the chair while the other comes over to slap her across the face. She gasps at the harsh contact and refuses to look at him as her skin stings. “You don’t call the shots around here little lady. Remember that.”

“I don’t have them. I never took them,” Michael utters, voice hoarse. The henchmen redirect their gaze to him. “Funny.” The smaller man grabs him by the collar due to his ragged body drooping in the chair. “We already know that you and your team broke into our warehouse to take our merchandise. The bigger problem is, somebody was already looking to fulfill their purchase. You interfered with a deal and that deal goes beyond you and me. Those were specialty weapons, Michael. Made to put down monsters from bedtime stories. Our client wasn’t very happy about your actions, so you know what? We gotta make that right.”

“He’s useless. Let’s just kill him and get it over with.”

“Fair enough. Sounds like a less time consuming option.”

Sharon turns her head slowly in time to see the taller henchman brandishing a knife while his partner holds Michael steady. “Don’t kill him or I swear I’ll kill you,” she calls out. The men laugh obnoxiously at the threat. “Sure, little lady. Go right ahead if you can.” Without warning the bigger captor thrusts his arm forward. “No,” Sharon screams. The door abruptly flies open in time allowing Kayla, a man, and two other women entry. “Hey!” The taller captor comes marching over towards the leader, but she magically throws him into the wall. He collapses in a heap on the floor as the other witches easily subdue his partner. Sharon widens her eyes as Kayla crouches in front of her, getting to work on untying her.

“You got my message,” she breathes. Focused eyes flit up to her momentarily.

“Yeah. It was clever,” the Attaché states. “Défaire.” In no time her superior is freed from her restraints and wrapping her arms around her. Taken aback by the intimate contact she stiffens but brings a hand to grasp a bicep. She even frowns a bit at how much Sharon is trembling. “I was pissed at you for blowing me and the case off but now that I see you like this I feel like a bitch.”

The consul smiles while holding her tighter. “My head hurts like a bitch so now we’re even,” she quips. As they pull apart to look at one another Kayla tilts her head and gently rubs a thumb over the woman’s bruised cheekbone. “We need to go get you looked at right now. You can’t even keep your eyes open,” she concludes, following the bloody trail on her features. “He needs it more,” Sharon claims. Her right-hand follows her eyeline over to a barely conscious Michael. Two of the witches are tending to him. “He was shot, beaten. I tried to do what I could.” Kayla trains her gaze back to her sluggish superior.  “We’ll get him help,” she reassures, nodding. Sharon returns the gesture before squeezing her eyes shut in discomfort.

* * *

 

Lounging in a white and gold striped chair Veda silently reads over the crackling of a fire. She flips to the next page, but a piece of paper comes floating down right into her book. Tilting her head she lifts the note up between her fingers while scanning the words printed on it. _We have a deal, Hellcat_. A delighted smirk materializes on her lips just before the note magically disintegrates.

Veda glances over at JD pacing in front of the fireplace with the bisque clown in his right hand and decidedly closes her book. Standing up she dusts her dress off and saunters over to him. "Darling." JD turns around and allows Veda to grab his forearms. "It is done." The vampire inspects the witch thoroughly before leaning in to kiss her neck as he embraces her. In response his lover wraps her arms around his back, perching her chin on his shoulder with an unreadable expression.

* * *

 

“Hey, sorry I’m late but I volunteered to drop Jordan and her friends off. Or more like _Rebekah_ volunteered me to do so with the intention of making me her chauffeur. She’s at some cool new bar teasing Hayden without me but it’s fine. What else am I here for right?”

After sealing the tomb Bridget spins around to find not just Josh in her company but also Marcel. “Oh,” she chirps, stopping in her tracks. “I wasn’t expecting any late night visitors. Or is this some kind of bro thing happening.” The two vampires smile at her with amusement as she gestures a finger between them. “No, you see Marcel’s not exactly the video games and junk food type.” Bridget grins as Marcel elbows her jokester of a friend. “Actually, I’m here for you if that’s alright,” the latter informs. The former quirks an eyebrow but walks over to stand across from the pair.

“I guess it all depends on what you’re bringing to me,” she replies, folding her arms.

“Simple. I would like to hire you for a job.”

Marcel steps up to the work table with a determined look. “I can pay you very well, give you anything you might need. My guys would even be at your beck and call,” he proposes. “Just for a job,” Bridget asks, furrowing her eyebrows. “All for a job. Just one job,” the vampire reclaims with a tilt of his head. The pureblood goes quiet as she examines him for a moment.

“So…you want _me_ for some mysterious task that your megawitch Diana can’t just handle?”

“She’s been away for a while. I’d rather not drag her back here and honestly…you might have a lot more wisdom for what I need.”

“Which would be?”

Sighing, Marcel licks his lips with a nod. “Alright. So I have an old enemy suddenly back in town and looking to make me suffer for a spat we had in the past. I know what you’re thinking. Why not put the poor bastard down myself and call it a day right? Well, that would’ve been the perfect solution had he not hooked up with your friend of a friend, Veda.” Dark eyes widen at the information. “What,” Bridget questions. She glances at Josh who gives her an apprehensive look before shaking her head as she looks back to Marcel. “What are you trying to tell me right now?”

“Veda is all wrapped up in someone who knows no bounds when it comes to taking his glory. His name is JD. He wants one thing, and when he gets that he wants something else. I created him, all that he is, instead of leaving him for dead knowing full well that his pompous ass would only grow more hungry once he became a vampire. I thought I needed someone like him on my side, but I was wrong. This battle brewing between me and him is something that could shake this city if it goes too far. I thought I finished it a long time ago but it ain’t over yet.” Marcel shakes his head in emphasis. “Not until he’s buried facedown. That won’t be so easy with the Hellcat by his side, protecting him.”

Bridget unfolds her arms while lifting her chin. “Let me guess. No other witches are willing to give a helping hand and Freya would never side with you against Veda let alone stand to hear you out in the first place,” she surmises. “Look, I know you’re one for the people,” Marcel asserts. “With all due respect to your care for them, I know you’re not shortsighted like Freya and her siblings. If I tell you everything about this you won’t be able to just sit on it out of some secondhand loyalty. Years ago you were there fighting on the frontlines to end Veda’s curse. You know about her strengths and weaknesses, how she operates. You’ve seen firsthand what she’s capable of and now that you’ve spent a few months with her do you really believe that she can’t do anything worse?”

“If Veda wasn’t actually trying to do right by Freya I would know about it okay? You don’t think that I was the first one ready to neutralize her once she resurfaced? I did the work, conducted the tests, and spent weeks on top of _weeks_ trying to disprove Freya’s judgement based on feelings. Veda is wild, temperamental, and far from a saint, but she wouldn’t ruin the city just to please your angry shadow. That all falls back on Freya and she knows it.”

“But she’s no longer under Freya’s twenty-four hour watch is she? And I don’t get the feeling that her charm has truly won you over. Yesterday I had a little meeting with JD and found her playing house with him. Her magic was all over that place like a fortress. My vampires have spotted her around the Quarter, everywhere but the compound for at least a week now. That’s not really her style is it?”

Shaking her head Bridget releases a short sigh. “Family matters, Marcel. That’s your explanation. Look, I’m sorry about your vampire problem but I’m gonna have to pass on this one,” she states with finality. Marcel tilts his head, inspecting her before accepting the answer with a nod. “Alright. Fair enough. But if you change your mind I’m sure Josh can point you in my direction. I’m gonna need you on my side to keep everything from being ripped apart.” He moves around the work table and passes by the witch, ignoring the two pairs of eyes on him as he makes his way to the exit.

“Marcel.”

Slowly turning around he finds his last hope now facing him completely with a sigh. “This is probably gonna come back to bite me in the well-intentioned _ass_ but…I want you to tell me everything. I can’t make you any promises on my end though.” Marcel offers a look of understanding and shrugs. “You don’t owe me that.” He takes a few steps to meet her head on. “All I need is your ear.”

* * *

 

The bright moonlight allows a clear view of the pathway to the shotgun house. Kayla hustles up the brick steps, followed by a focused Sharon, and quickly pries open the blue shutters. “So what are we planning to do with him again,” the consul asks while watching her partner. “Well, it’s a full moon tonight meaning a full powered boundary spell will be in _full_ effect. I was thinking we could keep him here all night to get some answers,” the Attaché states. Her superior frowns with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. Are you really choosing to disregard his heartbroken parents?”

While gripping the brass knob Kayla whispers an incantation before allowing them entry into the home. “He’s protected here alright? You know that he would never give us anything under a microscope. He was too scared to even talk to me without you being present,” she reclaims, walking into the living room. Spinning around she settles her gaze on her persistent cohort. “Are you sure you’re even feeling up to this?” Light brown eyes find her own as she continues voicing her concern. “You’ve been through a lot today.”

Sharon immediately deciphers the added layer of meaning and sighs. “I understand that you were just covering my ass okay? I would’ve gotten voted out if anyone knew that I was involved with a known criminal and this,” she pauses, pointing to the bandage on her forehead. “Would just be evidence of my incompetency rather than a consequence of my heroic duty. He was bound to get caught eventually and I know that I’m a terrible person for saying this but…I’m just glad it’s over now. I’m sorry you had to clean up after my idiocy though. What can I say?”

Kayla tilts her head, carefully examining the complicated woman. “You don’t do stupid, Sharon. There’s always a reason, even behind your madness. So are you in love with him,” she questions straightforwardly. Sharon releases an incredulous breath from her lips.

“No, I was never in love with him. To be quite honest with you I think I lost that ability a long time ago. To love or feel something meaningful towards another person.” She shakes her head at the thought. “I hate just about everything Kayla, even him most days. But I guess a part of me just liked that he could actually see _me_ for some pathetic reason.”

“I see you, Sharon.”

Sharon retreats into herself by looking elsewhere. “That’s exactly why we can never be friends,” she admits, firm. Frowning at the sudden coldness Kayla turns around to head towards the kitchen. “They’re probably back this way.” She pulls back the red curtain, instantly discovering Christian lying on the floor unmoving. “No.” Shaking her head she lowers onto her knees and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment to remain calm. Within seconds she’s in professional mode checking for a nonexistent pulse before jumpstarting CPR. Confused by the eerily quiet woman Sharon approaches from behind, gasping as soon as she registers the situation.

A lifeless Christian with streams of blood from his dark eyes, wide nose, and parted lips. A once headstrong and passionate young man that would never go down without a fight. Giving way to shock her traumatized eyes trail over to the items next to his body. There are a few small plastic bags scattered on the floor. Two of them filled with either brown or white powder, another containing a colorful assortment of pills, and the last with crushed green leaves. A tiny vile of red liquid acts as a paperweight for a note.  _Enjoy_.  

“Dammit!”

Shaken out of her bewilderment Sharon looks down at Kayla lowering her head into her hands. She had never witnessed the strong leader breaking down in defeat before this point. Probably because she was always too busy being held together by her. In an instant Sharon is fleeing the kitchen scene, hellbent on turning the house inside out to find her means of justice.

* * *

 

Tyson shivers as two men, on either side, lead him down a long hall. They finally reach their destination and one of the men pounds a fist on the door, summoning another stoic character on the other side. The door man, tall and taciturn, adjusts his suit with a nod signaling them to enter. Tyson’s heart pounds violently against his ribcage as he’s dragged into the office coming face to face with his greatest nightmare.

“Long time, no see.”

Receiving no response Alex grins at the teen sweating profusely. “Are you feeling alright little man? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” He redirects his gaze to the two men. “You can let him go. I want him to feel more comfortable.” The subjugates oblige by quietly providing some space but remain in the room. They watch as their boss moves to grab a glass from his desk, bringing it to his lips for a sip. “Now that you’re more comfortable I want you to tell me what happened today. No lies.”

“I got played,” Tyson states, peering down at his feet. “You got played because you chose to place trust in someone smarter than you.” Terrified and ashamed the boy doesn’t utter a word in response. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Alex commands evenly. Teary eyes snap to him in seconds fueling him with hubris as he straightens up, pushing his shoulders back.

“You know I’ve spent a lot of time, energy, and now money on you rookie. All out of the _kindness_ of my heart.” He grabs his chest with an exaggerated expression. “Just so you could see another day with purpose. Did I have to do that for you little man?” Tyson shakes his head as a negative. “No sir,” he answers. “And why not,” Alex queries while strolling over to him.

“Because I owe you.”

“Because you owe me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alex tilts his head with a neutral expression, regarding his worker. “But here you are repaying me in more hardship. I don’t understand it. Do you?” He watches as Tyson lowers his head and immediately snatches him up by the shirt, boiling with anger. “Do _you_?” The teenager begins weeping and frantically shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries out.

“I’ve gotta admit I’m really starting to regret recruiting spoiled little boys. The downside of this operation isn’t fitting into my Machiavellian dream right now.”

“Please don’t kill me Alex. Please. I didn’t say anything I swear!”

“No, no, no you don’t. You don’t get to beg and plead. I just want you to listen to me alright?” Tyson nods frantically while staring into fiery eyes. “Your burden is more than I can bear. You’re just not cut out for the job kid so understand this. Your imaginary pill party cost me special currency, but that price will be nothing compared to what will happen if I keep you around. I had to take a life I didn’t intend to didn’t I? That wasn’t a part of my plans or their evening schedules,” Alex remarks, gesturing his head over to the two men.

“I’m sorry little man but you’re just gonna have to pay your debts.” Tyson inhales sharply, looking to the floor and his boss ducks his head to reach his gaze. “You saw how my witch made it _real_ slow for your friend right? I wanted that because I was kinda mad before. But now that I’m actually seeing how weak and gutless you are I’ve decided to show you mercy.” Slightly furrowing his brows the teen peers up at the man. “I’m gonna make this quick and easy for you.”

Alex watches as the conclusion dawns on Tyson who begins to protest. Summoning his power with golden eyes he furiously strikes the boy, launching his skull across the room where it eventually takes a nosedive. Rolling his shoulders back he releases the limp body in his grasp and accepts a towel from one of his men. “Clean this up and give him a proper burial somewhere...private.”

He waves a hand dismissively as his subjugates begin the disposing process. They exit the office one by one allowing a short man to enter. “Good news. Michael is out of the way. The humans may not have put him six feet under as expected but the word is he’ll be imprisoned after he leaves the hospital. They all will for trafficking illegal weapons against vampires and werewolves.”

“And what about the Queen?”

“A little banged up but still pretty. I don’t think she’ll be into bad boys for a while.”

“Lucky me,” Alex quips, grinning deviously.

* * *

 

“Remind me to shower our family in praise tomorrow. They wore Mikaela out so much that she didn’t even put up a fight against bedtime.”

Keelin, clad in a simple tank top and underwear, proceeds to moisturize her skin while humming in delight. “Yeah. We got lucky tonight,” Freya calls from the connected bathroom. “Uh, yeah. Totally lucky to avoid the tantrum of a Mikaelson firstborn. I was expecting her to riot against staying home while Jordan goes out for pizza with her friends. But seeing as I was completely _wrong_ about our baby I would just love to follow her lead now. Of course if Mama would finally come to bed and keep me company,” the brunette sings.

For a few moments she’s met with silence and halts her menial task. “Freya? Um, you do have to blow out all these candles in here with your sorcery remember?" Her elusive wife emerges from the bathroom in a vibrant and very short silk robe. “Well there’s one candle here that only you can blow out. Happy September 10th,” she cheers with a dimpled grin.

Keelin is far too stunned to even criticize the shameless last attempt to celebrate her birthday. She can’t even bring herself to marvel at the scrumptious-looking chocolate cupcake presented to her. All she can recognize in this moment is every curve of her very attractive soulmate. Tilting her head she realizes her mouth has been hanging slightly agape for the past several seconds.

“Freya, was this your plan all along? Sexy sorcery candles and all?”

The Viking dips her head, suddenly coy about the attention, and sets the cupcake down on the vanity dresser behind her. “I know how you feel about your birthday, but I couldn’t bring myself to just ignore it. No matter what you deserve to know how special you are. I mean your existence,” she pauses, shaking her head. “Your existence has impacted my life in ways that I can never truly explain through words. And without you my life would’ve been…I can’t even tell you because I’ve been spoiled with endless opportunities all because of your love. _So_ …I’m currently standing here in little to nothing willing to spend the rest of the night showing you that. Even if I embarrass myself to the point of no return you’re worth it.”

An enamored Keelin offers a bright smile to her partner. “Honey, I love you. You’re amazing enough without going all out for one ordinary day. I already told you this and despite how unbelievably tempting you look right now I can tell how uncomfortable you really are. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that you’re going to start a fire in that anyway.”

Amused, Freya tilts her head and silently accepts the wager by abruptly disrobing. A racy sheer red bra peeks out first before the rest of the set is put on full display. Needless to say her wife is now visibly enthusiastic and practically drooling. “Wow,” Keelin utters, eyebrows raised. “Okay…now I’m officially one-hundred percent sure that you’re going to burn our house down.”

A genuine chuckle fills the space. “Well. I recall someone telling me that red was my color despite me never wearing it much,” Freya defends slyly, biting her lip. “Wise someone,” Keelin retorts, grinning with a constellation in her eyes. “You look…so beautiful. You are so beautiful, Freya.” Sparkling green eyes bore into her own from across the distance. “Please, this took effort. You’re absolutely breathtaking on your worst day.” Chestnut orbs roll at the compliment throwing until a sultry tune begins playing from the speakers nearby. Keelin furrows her eyebrows as Freya raises her own comically.

“More sexy sorcery?”

“ _Actually_ …that definitely wasn’t my cue. I was trying to buy some time before my tragic rendition of a far more superior striptease.”

With a snort Keelin rises from the bed and saunters over to Freya leaving little space between them. “ _Well_ …you can just forget the dance. I think I'm ready to make my wish now,” the former announces. Biting her lip the witch retrieves the cupcake and hands it over to her wife. The werewolf closes her eyes as she releases a breath to kill the single flame. Upon success her eyelids flutter open to find emerald orbs on her.

“So what did you wish for? The return of my super smooth romancing?”

“Nope. That never left. But as for my wish I think you can figure it out just fine."

Freya smirks at the seductive hint before leaning in to capture the lips calling for her touch. She feels firm hands grabbing her hips and powers forward toward the awaiting destination. At the last minute however a determined Keelin turns them around to straddle the blonde as they drop onto the edge of the bed. She swiftly strips herself of her tank top allowing eager hands to find her waist in a frenzy of wistful kisses.

The pair slowly ease back further up the bed, practically floating until they finally collide onto the mattress. Keelin plants her hands on either side of Freya's head while hungrily recapturing rosy lips. After a few moments she begins trailing sensuous kisses down the Viking's neck, egged on further by the fingertips imprinting her back. Utilizing her strength Freya turns them over and holds Keelin’s wrists down to the bed while straddling her. "Not my birthday remember?" The brunette drops her head back to the mattress, softly chuckling in defeat. “Fair enough,” she quips, playful.

And just like that they’re gazing into each other’s eyes, utterly enthralled. Their fingers interlock and buzzing energy is exchanged between them igniting a brisk shockwave of green and gold in their irises. Desperately under the allure of her soulmate Freya lowers her head to meet her halfway. Their lips brush, anticipating the rush before finally surging into a spellbound kiss. Keelin runs her hands down to the dip of Freya’s back as the light of the full moon pours in from the balcony to blanket their warm-blooded forms.

 


	5. Blood In The Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya and Keelin consider the likelihood of conceiving another baby; Bridget makes a surprising discovery while thinking over her options regarding Veda; JD and Veda go on a date amidst the scheming; Jordan is reminded of her complicated identity; Patrick continues to build Marcel's army; Sharon finds herself back at odds with Kayla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back with another long awaited chapter! Thanks for being so patient with me. So, by now it should be obvious that we're in what I call the Freelinverse due to my inability to make sense of the TVD writers smh. Tweaking, revising, and expanding source material is what I do lol. At this point we start to get into the new origin stories/mythology so first and foremost be aware that S8 of TVD did not happen in this universe. The reasons why are endless, trust me. There's also a matter of the back end of S7 (in regard to the main character I cared for) but that isn't pertinent to this current story. Just keep that in mind for later down the road because it will come up. I'm excited about these next few chapters and moving towards the second half drama but I'm also very anxious. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy my efforts :)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: There is a brief depiction of a miscarriage.
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Chymes - Dreaming: Freya and Keelin talk in bed.
> 
> 2) Dermot Kennedy - Glory: Marcel and Patrick talk at headquarters.
> 
> 3) Bea Miller - To The Grave: JD and Veda meet with Isla; Sharon talks to Kayla at the Tremé house.
> 
> 4) Of Monsters and Men - Silhouettes: Greg and Bridget talk/visit the nursery.
> 
> 5) Future Generations - You've Got Me Flush: Hayden and Rebekah talk about their night; Freya and Keelin spend time with Mikaela; Taylor and Jasmine talk about Jordan.
> 
> 6) The Seige - Run For Your Life: Patrick checks out Bishop's potential recruits; Jordan encounters Aniya.
> 
> 7) Someone - Forget Forgive: Bridget looks for a way to free Greg; Freya and Mikaela do a spell together.
> 
> 8) Thutmose - Run Wild: Patrick and Bishop turn the recruits into vampires.
> 
> 9) Alt-J - Tessellate: At the Mikaelson Compound Sharon visits Keelin while Bridget tells Rebekah about Veda, and Freya meditates on things. Patrick drops Jordan off.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

_A bright ball of white hangs gallantly in the pale blue sky. Freya gazes at it, unflinching as she wipes the sweat rolling down her forehead. She licks her chapped lips and turns around to walk in the opposite direction. In the distance a trail of smoke guides her to the bustling city she knows as home. Her thoughts travel ahead to the task awaiting her there and the image of a wounded creature settles into her mind. It was her day to prepare supper, a meal that everyone would gladly devour but her. She can’t help the immediate reaction as sorrow pricks her spine. Breathing out she automatically focuses on the profound sensations of comfort. The deep green leaves of the palm trees, the faint rhythm of a drum. The burning wood invading her nose, the salty air on her tongue, and the baked sand scratching at her feet. Freya wipes at her forehead again, silently cursing the sweltering heat before closing her eyes._

_When her eyes blink open she’s floating in a sparkling pool surrounded by thick vegetation. The orange tinted sun beats down on her while the blue-green water refreshes her skin. The stillness of the spring threatens to lull her into a deep slumber. Darkness creeps up around her, slowly pulling her in but only serenity fills her mind. She reaches out into the void. A delicate glow outlines her fingers causing her eyes to widen in wonder. The ethereal light collides with the calm darkness and out of the void sprouts a mystical force. The intense rays of gold form into the shape of a large tree. Freya admires the creation until a beam shoots through her body. With a gasp she awakens in the spring and looks up at the full moon._

Slowly, Freya opens her eyes to a heap of wild curls tickling her face. Pulling back slightly she exhales and allows her bleary vision to adjust. Keelin is nestled into her with a protective arm draped over her covered waist. A sweet grin overtakes Freya as she marvels at the purest view of the wolf. She just can’t stop herself from stroking Keelin’s bicep and softly kissing her forehead. In response the brunette readjusts her head with a sigh.

“You’re not heading to the shop are you?”

Freya is instantly amused by the raspy inquiry. “Not if you don’t want me to,” she replies knowingly. “I don’t want you to,” Keelin retorts without a hitch. She easily earns a chuckle from her wife. “I’ll have to get back to it sometime. Just to make sure things are running smoothly.” The statement finally gets Keelin to crack her eyes open. “But then…things would stop running so smoothly here…” She moves in to press her lips to soft pink ones, whispering against them. “In bed…” She pecks them again.

“With me…”

Freya cradles Keelin’s face to deepen the hungry kiss. Afterwards they rest their foreheads together. “Is it normal to be this tired yet excited,” the brunette asks. “Hmm…I’m not sure. But last night was definitely worth it,” the blonde quips. Her wife pulls back to look at her with a massive grin.

“Well _yeah_ but now we’re faced with escaping this bed. Jordan has her committee thing today and I think we’re bordering on making her late.”

“Then maybe we should seriously consider getting her that car. You know, for any future dilemmas that might present themselves.”

“As of now I like the way you think, Mrs. Mikaelson.”

Both women chuckle and gravitate into another steamy kiss. Pulling away Keelin shakes her head. “Okay, we’re being _way_ too lovey-dovey, even for us. It’s actually kinda gross.” She scrunches up her face and Freya laughs, inciting her to do the same. When the banter finally dies down their eyes meet as they quietly take each other in. The previous night, and well into the early morning if they were being honest, they had experienced every sensation as if it were the first. It all made sense considering the last few months had been rough at times. Both of them could recognize the distance that seemed to grow as their world expanded. What was once their simple life suddenly became the days of fighting enemies and past trauma all over again. But this was the weekend that everything finally came to a head. They were able to bring their secrets out into the open and finally sort through them together as partners. The passionate lovemaking portion wasn’t exactly planned but it was far from unwelcomed. Somehow they felt even closer after yesterday’s events. Still the situation seemed to echo the beautifully complicated beginning of their little family.

Keelin tilts her head while biting her lip. “What are the chances that we managed to create another little hybrid last night?” Freya scrutinizes her for a moment while considering the question. “Well. Seeing as we’re having a hard time coming down from the _lingering_ emotions…I’m concluding that there’s a high probability here.” She gains a subtle nod from her soulmate and tilts her head with concern. “So…how do you feel about that?”

Keelin flits her eyes down between them before reaching out to take one of Freya’s hands. The latter clasps their fingers together while waiting patiently. Shortly after bright chestnut eyes bore into her own emerald ones. “I can never deny a product of our love. Between supporting Jordan and working through Mikaela’s troubles I know that we haven’t been planning for more babies but…everything happens for a reason. If Nature saw it fit to give us another little gift then of _course_ I’m gonna embrace it.”

Freya summons a wide smile that spreads from cheek to cheek. The one that Keelin supplies in return is out of her control. She shakes her head while rolling her eyes in a playful manner. “I’m gonna embrace it too,” Freya affirms. “I love our daughter with all my heart. Jordan’s existence has brought hope to our family and _you_ are everything to me. I love you so much. Always.”

“I love you more. _Always_. So come here you big softy.”

Without wasting a single moment Freya moves in to capture her soulmate’s lips. Right after they engulf each other in a warm hug. “I just hope it’s not nearly as intense as the first time around,” Keelin remarks as they pull away. “A lot has changed since then so who can really say. No powerful visions I take it,” Freya inquires, grinning.

“Nope, none that I can recall. I did, however, have a vivid dream about blooming flowers in the desert. Maybe that’s a sign that I really need to take up horticulture or something?”

“Or maybe you’ve been watching Jordan’s hobbies too closely, hm?”

“Hey, family bonding is important to wolves.”

Freya offers a small smile. “I know. To be fair I can’t really downplay your dream when it’s eerily similar to mine. I grew a tree. But I think I might’ve died afterwards?” Keelin raises her eyebrows comically. “Okay, definitely not the sweet visions of building a family.” Her wife chuckles with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t think so unfortunately.”

“Maybe it was just all the weird full moon energy? Us sharing a cryptic dream wouldn’t be the most astonishing thing since being soul bonded.”

“Maybe. But we can worry about that later. In the meantime I insist on dropping Jordan off, so you can get some much needed rest. Your little vacation from work shouldn’t go wasted.”

Keelin beams at the thoughtfulness. “Hm, how did I get so lucky,” she ponders, inching closer. Freya smiles into the kiss before easing back to gaze at the brunette. “You’re a Mikaelson. I wouldn’t speak too soon if I were you.” She pulls back the sheets and raises up out of bed. Keelin props herself up on an elbow and leans her head into her hand as she watches the Viking get dressed.

* * *

 

**_Sharon heaves out a shaky breath to straighten up before clenching her jaw shut. "What did you do? Where are they now," she questions harshly. Lo cringes at her fiery tone of voice. "I wasn't going to kill your friends I swear. I just needed to know who was helping Daryl. But he refused to give me anything time and time again. I tortured him, beat him bloody but still he stood tall. He recently passed from his injuries and last night I was made aware that his wife's heart couldn't bear the thought. It just gave out, I'm sorry." She pauses to release her own quivering sigh. "Their bodies are at Camp Algiers. You will find them in the basement of the only house intact. They're under the floorboards, wrapped in white sheets."_ **

**_The Attaché trembles at the chilling discovery until something inside of her snaps. She swiftly slaps the vampire across the face hard._ **

Sharon jumps up from her spot on the leather couch. Breathing out she grabs her forehead, wincing at the tender injury there. Looking around she realizes that she isn’t home. Last night she stayed at the office picking apart the case with a stoic Kayla. Even after the Attaché packed up and checked out for the night she just couldn’t bring herself to retreat.

Melodious humming directs her attention to a woman placing folders on Kayla’s desk. She’s never seen the character before this point, but she can tell that she’s young, optimistic. Her professional attire, complete with a white button-up shirt and black pencil skirt, is perfectly pressed while her hair is slicked back into a bun. Her dark eyes take notice of Sharon and the humming ceases.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Sharon continues to inspect her while snatching the grey fleece blanket off her body and swinging her legs over into a sitting position. “No, you didn’t wake me up. But who are you exactly,” she questions, brusque. “Well this is awkward. I’m Lisa Hardrict and I’ve been working under you as Kayla’s assistant.” Sharon furrows her eyebrows in disbelief. “And when did Kayla get an assistant?”

Lisa shifts on her high heels with a guilty look. “About two months ago. I know I haven’t seen you much, but I honestly didn’t know you weren’t aware. I’m sorry for the confusion.” With a sigh Sharon shakes her head. Her snappish tone had obviously made the poor woman uncomfortable. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like you hired yourself. Assuming you know where Kayla is right now I would greatly appreciate having that knowledge too.”

“Of course,” Lisa confirms, nodding. “She’s doing some digging with a few Tremé witches. She figured you might’ve missed some things in that shotgun house last night so she’s being thorough. When I came in to get an early start on work you two were already here. _You_ apparently had a rough night, so I was told to keep an eye out.”

Sharon tilts her head as realization dawns on her. In record time she’s grabbing her boots to slip on. “Thank you,” she utters. “I can bring you some coffee if you need it,” Lisa offers, watching with uncertainty. The consul stands up and gives her a once-over. “That won’t be necessary,” she states, firm. The assistant quietly nods in response and Sharon strides for the door.

* * *

 

Patrick strolls into the office space as Marcel stands by the window, silently inspecting the lariat necklace in his hand. “The king has been quietly moody all morning. A noticeable change of pace from yesterday,” he remarks. Marcel redirects his gaze to the street down below while closing his fist around the jewelry. “Well, a leader is only as good as his strategy. I’m just waiting to see who’s in my corner before I make my next move,” he reclaims.

“Getting that witch onboard didn’t go as planned huh?”

After lowering his fist Marcel spins around to regard him. “Actually, we seem to be on the same page. I just gave her some time to think it over. I’m asking her to take on a lot so it’s the least I can do.” Patrick nods accordingly as his eyes fall to the tragic memento. “Your good luck charm there says something is on your mind though. If not locking down on some witch power then what I wonder.” He receives a halfhearted smirk in response.

“I really cared about her despite the story. She was the one thing I had outside of all the politics and war, the greed. Or so I thought. Now she’s come back to haunt me in ways, like she never even left.”

“You stabbed her right in the beating heart. Haunting your ass through a scorned twin brother might as well be poetic in your case. But whatever, we’re gonna bury your ghosts for good and get back to business.”

“Not all of them apparently,” Marcel mutters. He moves to set Jackie’s necklace down on his desk before turning to his frowning partner. “You’re heading out again. Just make sure to keep the location discreet, safe.” Patrick nods in understanding. “Bishop knows the drill. New recruits stay off the street until I approve of them,” he confirms. Marcel lifts his chin slightly.

“Good, good. We’re making progress here. I appreciate the initiative you’re showing with the others. I know I made it look easy in the past but it’s not. Building an army takes time and patience, two valuable things to have in a city full of determined witches. We can’t take this place back without one functioning as it should.”

“I got it covered. As a former army brat I can tell you that shaping these rookies up is possible.”

“Well alright then,” Marcel chimes, grinning. “After you feel them out just let me know what we’re working with. Not everyone is dedicated to making change but I’m choosing to trust your instincts on this.” Patrick gives him a short nod before wheeling around to leave. However, he stops just short of the doorway. “Talia Al-Amin. First and only girl to ever break my heart into jagged little pieces.” After a moment he finally turns around. “I can’t say that I daggered her for it, but the pain was unlike anything I ever felt before. So I made some bad choices for awhile after that.” He shrugs. “I just thought that since your twisted romance secret is out, why not share mine. I ripped a lot of hearts out for that girl. Love makes you do crazy things sometimes.”

Marcel straightens up rigidly. “Something tells me that Talia didn’t lie her way into your kingdom and try to bring it down with the real man she loved most,” he states, neutral. “What’s done is done but thanks for the talk Pat. I needed a little understanding.” Patrick raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, it was worth a shot. See you later, boss.” After backtracking he smoothly rotates around to exit the office. With a sigh Marcel rubs his head.

* * *

 

While flipping through the ledger Bridget releases a breath of frustration. Her tired eyes peer up from the page to the various dark objects occupying the shelf above her head. The cursed crystal ball, wooden mallet, and magic disrupting orb are displayed amongst the numerous tools. Vincent was kind enough to let her keep some things here at Kieran’s apartment for safety purposes.

Reaching into the pocket of her leather jacket she pulls out Veda’s ring. Since curing Maya of her burden curse Bridget has held onto the complex piece of jewelry. When Veda was miraculously resurrected she kept it even closer as a precaution. She was thoroughly opposed to ever letting the mischievous witch get her hands on it again. Who knows what the outcome would be?

As Bridget examines the ring her temples begin to pulsate. _Damn migraines_. Not that she was the best sleeper to begin with, she had failed to shut her eyes for even the slightest moment. Last night she was far too occupied with Marcel and making sense of Veda’s newest antics. She tucks the ring back into her pocket as the thrumming on her skull intensifies. To ward off a potential blackout she inhales a deep breath and calmly releases it. Her eyes close as she falls into the routine. Taking another deep breath her body is suddenly weightless. In an attempt to retain some control she grabs at the platform but misses as her consciousness is expelled.

Opening her eyes Bridget finds herself standing in a luscious garden patrolled by restless butterflies. She inhales and is greeted with a nectarous scent. Birds sing a harmonious tune as they sail across an unbelievably blue sky, and the sunshine adds a glimmer to the landscape. At the base of a great oak tree white roses begin to bloom. A bright smile graces Bridget’s lips as peace washes over her.

“And there it is. A smile that I haven’t seen in a _very_ long time.”

Bridget whips her head in the direction of the unforgettable voice and discovers Greg smirking at her from a few feet away. Any hint of a word dies right in her throat. “I know,” the wolf remarks. “You’ve gotten used to my less flattering form.” The pressure on Bridget’s shoulders dissipates with a quizzical laugh. Shaking her head she crosses the distance to wrap her arms around him.

“Oh my god. What is happening? I can actually feel _you_ and not just your tree energy. You smell really nice too.”

Greg chuckles while holding her close. After a few moments they pull apart and he looks down at her with a glint in his eyes. “I guess somebody really needed a talk. Here’s a hint, trees don’t partake in good ol’ conversation for the hell of it.” Bridget tilts her head sadly. “This is some desperate dream come true isn’t it,” she surmises. “A way to cope with my blackout.”

“Not quite. You never did realize that your full potential went beyond your mother’s words.”

Greg takes note of the dark eyes questioning him. “You sent my soul here before I could pass on to wherever I’m destined. I was confused at first given the circumstances, but once I found the ancient witchy artifacts things started to become clearer. To put it plainly, you couldn’t let me go and so here is where I’ve existed, in spirit, ever since. This is the first time you’ve been willing to open up to me though. I could feel you calling out.”

Bridget smiles bitterly, shaking her head. “I never stopped needing the one person that knew me inside and out. There was never any expectation or judgement with you.” She scans their surroundings in thought. “I’m still confused, Greg. I didn’t create this place and the last Chambre De Chasse I had a hand in was reserved for a fancy wedding. I didn’t exactly have the means to make one just in time for you.” The implication hangs in the air as every muscle in her body tenses.

“I know, B. But you didn’t have to because this place was already here before that day. It’s a bit more complex than the last minute wedding arrangements so let me show you.”

Greg extends a hand to Bridget, earning a hesitant glance at first. After she finally grasps his hand he leads her into the farmhouse and straight up the stairs. He pushes his way into the second door on the left revealing a perfectly organized library. Bridget gawks at the place in amazement, lips slightly parted as she takes it all in. Besides the multitude of books neatly tucked in the shelves there are various unknown items on display. She can’t say why but for some reason a sense of belonging reverberates in the cream colored study.

“This is all mine. I’ve never seen some of it and yet it all feels so…familiar.”

“Look, I’ve been here for a while. Time is almost nonexistent, I got pretty restless. And you know me, when in doubt find a good read. So when I got to desperately searching for answers in this library it wasn’t long before I came across these.”

Greg redirects her attention to the books resting on the table. Stepping closer Bridget roams her eyes over the titles imprinted on them. “Origins of Realms. Psionic Sorcery: The Unification of Mind and Magic?” She peers up at Greg, quirking an eyebrow. “I get that it’s been awhile but really? Supernatural good reads? Not really your type of entertainment.”

“Hey, you try being stuck in a southern continuum. I would’ve preferred Gray’s Anatomy or some over the top romance novel set in the Gilded Age, but this is what I got.”

“Oddly specific.”

Tilting his head Greg gives Bridget an earnest look. “I tried finding a way out but in the end that only got me driving down a winding road for miles. Obviously I had to be smart, so this is it,” he declares, tapping on the third book. “I must’ve read every single book in here more than twice. I’m sure that these three hold the answers to everything about this place. I just needed the key. I needed you, B.” After gazing at him for a second Bridget picks the medium-sized book up and scans the title. _A Guide to Extrasensory Perception_. In pure disbelief her eyes flicker over to the wolf who simply nods.

* * *

 

“I thought I made myself clear.”

Isla marches up to the tomb where Veda and JD stand guard. “You give me the space to work and when it’s done I’ll reach out. Explain to me now why I’ve been summoned here so urgently,” she demands. Offering a charming grin JD steps forward while extending a hand. “I apologize for the confusion, but it was I who _summoned_ you here. I just find it simply impolite to do business with an unfamiliar face. We might as well be trading secrets with a ghost then,” he claims, earning a frown.

“Says the undead racketeer dating the resurrected wicked witch.”

JD gives her a look of amusement. “Touché. I understand the position you’re in but please allow me to ease my own troubled mind. We all need to be sure we’re on the same page here. What good is a fragile partnership?” He gestures for her to lead the way into the tomb and she gives him another distrusting look before walking ahead. Presented inside is a brunette woman bound to the ceiling by chains and gagged with a piece of cloth. Isla gapes at the skittish prisoner before whipping around to face her blackmailers.

“How and _why_ do you maniacs have her?”

“Oh, so you do recognize that sweet wrinkle of fear across such an unsullied visage,” Veda quips, smirking.

“Yeah. Obviously you knew that when you tracked her down. I’m guessing you brought her here against her will to prove a point.”

“You catch on rather quickly, fledgling. But may I ask why our special guest is no longer fiercely devoted to her birthright?”

“You know why,” Isla states begrudgingly.

“I see now that we are certainly on the same terms. Your once valued aunt will act as my leverage. Just in case you were still questioning your task that is. She is estranged from your mother is she not? I hold no doubt that she won’t hesitate to choose her own survival over that of her treacherous sister and former coven.”

“You’ve proven your point so don’t worry about me holding up my end of the bargain. Once we make out some spells we’re beginning work on the weapons. It should all go smoothly from there because I just so happen to have Esther Mikaelson’s talisman. From communing with my ancestors I confirmed that she was in fact wearing it to direct natural energy when she performed the immortality spell. Therefore it contains the magical essence we’re going to use to curse the weapons.”

Perking up Veda tilts her head with interest. “And how did you come in possession of such a thing,” she inquires. “That’s none of your concern,” Isla replies mockingly. “Just know that you’ll have what you want soon enough. Then you can leave my family alone and out of your schemes.”

“Well then. I suppose I will leave you to your work as I have affairs of my own.” Veda waves a hand to cloak the prisoner. “Remember this, fledgling. You are low hanging fruit.” She turns to leave along with JD. “And what about all the eyes on me,” Isla blurts out. Spinning around she finds the pair staring at her. “They’re unnecessary.”

“I’m afraid those watchers were my idea, sweetheart,” JD speaks up. “Trust is a fickle thing from what I’ve learned, but as long as you’re honoring our deal here you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You have my word.” Isla regards him grievously.

* * *

 

Several witches buzz around the Tremé house as Sharon enters the living room. The consul spots Kayla dispersing smoke and hurries down the hall to meet her. “Hey, you didn’t have to bench me. I’m well rested and prepared for this.” She watches as the Attaché continues waving the herb around.

“No offense but I’m more concerned with trying to track down a witch here. It’s great that you got your beauty rest though.”

“Don’t shut me out, Kayla. This is my burden too so I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it right.”

Kayla finally spins around with a scowl. “Make it right? How the hell are you going to make this right? Huh? Because of you and your toxic affair with a criminal this all went south. Because of you and _only_ you I wasn’t there to protect Christian and Tyson. So you can get out of my face about carrying a burden, Sharon. I don’t have the patience to deal with your issues right now.”

“I know that it’s all my fault okay? I know where the blame lands. I’m not the greatest person and I take full ownership of my shortcomings. But I’m also not a coward when it comes to protecting my people. We can still find Tyson. We’ve done it once already when it was thought impossible and we’ll do it again.”

“No, _Christian_ found him because it was impossible for us to. It’s over now. Tyson is as good as dead after all this.”

Sharon shakes her head. “That’s worst case scenario. We can’t just give up without even trying,” she argues. “Wake up,” Kayla commands, shaking her head. “That plan has failed. We need to use what we have to prevent future casualties.” They gaze at each other fiercely for a moment.

“You’re right. We need to connect anything we can to this drug lord in the making. I can help track the magic here and then get the drugs analyzed at a lab.”

“Your help won’t be necessary, Sharon. You’re off the case for good,” Kayla declares, sighing. “Between your impulsive actions and that head injury it’s just not safe for anyone involved. I have help from other covens which is more than enough. If you don’t agree then please feel free to take this to the Round Table. We’ll see who they’ll place their trust in.”

Sharon takes a moment to read her tone before glaring. “Who do you think you are,” she spits. “Got a little power in your hands and now you can just suddenly move against me? Rethink your decisions, Kayla. You’re _my_ right-hand, not the other way around.” Narrowing her eyes Kayla steps forward, uncompromising.

“As acting superior I order you to stand down before I’m suddenly in the mood to _knock_ you down on your pampered ass. I have to carry the weight of this case while making funeral plans for a kid that I put in harm’s way, so I’d rather just avoid this altogether. In fact I do have the means to end your career, Sharon. So what’s it gonna be? Do we handle this between us or bring everyone else into your continuous _shortcomings_?”

Out of palpable resentment Sharon remains silent. “You’re not fit for this. We both know the truth here so maybe you’re just better off handling paperwork and appearances for now,” Kayla concludes. “Isn’t that what your assistant is for,” Sharon throws back. “Enjoy your taste of power.” She twists around and marches away from the scene as Kayla shakes her head with a sigh. On the way out the evidence gathered on the kitchen counter catches her attention. Coming to a sudden halt Sharon begins to contemplate.

* * *

 

“You seriously believe that I’m a psychic?”

Greg shrugs passively. “Well is that so hard to believe? At this moment you’re talking to a dead guy,” he states. Bridget closes her eyes while shaking her head at the sore reminder. Her friend studies her regretfully. “I’m sorry. Yes, I have reason to believe you’re psychic. It’s something that all natural species can be born with, like a gift or a curse. Whatever you see it as it’s just an extension of one’s self, the ability to access the full potential of your brain. I mean…” Greg grabs at his head in thought. “There was this werewolf elder around when I was a kid right? He always knew what the legacies were up to before we did, sensed when we were troubled mentally, emotionally, even spiritually. _Naturally_ , us ignorant wolves just assumed that all old guys were wise but no. Now I know that the man that christened me was something else, both wolf and psychic. He was depending on abilities like telepathy, clairsentience, and aura reading to guide his people. Bridget, you’re a witch but you can be psychic too. My ancestors were once with yours right, according to the Mikaelson troubles? And the book said that _all_ witchcraft is rooted in psychic energy. I believe that all this time your magic overshadowed your deeper self. Something you were born with, a part quietly living inside of you.”

“This all had to have been a spell okay? I’m not Jean Grey,” Bridget affirms, sighing.

Taking her hands Greg brings her in closer. “You said so yourself, there was no time for a spell like this. Just listen to me okay? Think about your inconvenient foresight, the overwhelming empathy, the clairvoyance. Even your _imaginary_ friends from childhood. Too many times you’ve felt worthless because of those scars you try to hide and this…leads me to believe you have more abilities you’ve suppressed over time. Why is that so hard to believe in our world huh?” Bridget looks away, but Greg gently takes hold of her face to reestablish eye contact.

“What are you so afraid of here?”

“This? I don’t know…losing everything that matters to me, causing more suffering. You’re telling me that I put you here alone for _years_ , Greg. _I’ve_ been the one keeping you from finding peace if you’re right about this,” Bridget cries, shaking her head. “But I guess that’s just what I do huh? This is my life.” Greg tilts his head with crestfallen features.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d come here. What does it mean when you can’t even talk to someone amongst the living?”

“That sometimes I can’t help but feel alone.”

Greg shakes his head. “You’re not alone. I think we both know that,” he counterclaims. Bridget bites her lip before grabbing onto one of the hands cradling her face. “I’m just so…tired. I’m tired of second guessing everything I do, tired of not knowing which way to go. Protecting the people I love is my purpose. I feel that in my bones you know? That will never change as long as I’m on earth. But at some point I started to wonder if that’s doing more harm than good. I’ve seen that I can’t save everyone no matter how much I try.” She pauses, eyes beginning to water. “No matter how much I _need_ to. For every battle I win there’s plenty more I lose. But now I’m not sure if there’s anything else that I can be. What if this is it for me? Stuck in a role of trying to be the strength of everything. Maybe I was kidding myself into thinking I was more than some nursery school teacher.”

“Hey. Don’t sell yourself as someone who hasn’t made a difference. You couldn’t save me. I understand how much that haunts you alright? But you need to hold onto all the great things you’ve done, B. You’ve kept a family alive because you refused to give up no matter what was in your way. There has _never_ been a question of you being strong enough to take on the world. Whether it’s slaying demons or planning weddings you’re always there to supply ‘happily ever afters’ for the people you care about.”

Bridget licks her lips as tears cascade down her cheeks. Offering a sullen smile Greg releases her face. “Let me show you something else. Alright,” he requests, taking her hand. With a deep inhale Bridget nods and allows herself to be led out of the library. They walk down the hall in silence until they reach another room. Greg pushes the door open and looks at Bridget, finding her mouth agape.

“All of this is your ideal home, your dream world. More than anything this was always the reality I wanted for you. You deserve to finally have that like everyone else.”

Inside the baby blue room is a simple white crib by the window, matching rocking chair in a corner, and a changing table nearby. Countless stuffed animals fill the spaces of two shelves standing against an adjacent wall. Slowly, Bridget steps into the nursery and moves over to the crib. While running her delicate fingers along the intricately crafted structure she examines the mirror facing her. It’s a full-length antique, similar to the one she owns but pure white instead of a creamy tan color. Within its reflection is what she recognizes to be an image of her lying unconscious.

“The mirror is a window to the physical plane,” Greg speaks up. “ _Your_ real world. If I’m being honest here I’ve seen good days and bad days with it.” Whirling around Bridget tilts her head with a rueful gaze. “Greg…” Before she can formulate words she’s struck by an intense vision.

**_Standing before an ancient bowl Bridget places two small clay tablets side by side on the table, each stamped with obscure symbols. Then she lowers her hands into the bowl and gathers white dust into her palms. Bringing her hands up she blows the powder and wafts the smoke towards her face. She takes a deep breath and exhales evenly with her eyes shut. “Cosigno fatum meum. Auferat vitam,” she intones. The curse is enacted but as it takes root she feels a sharp pain. Opening her eyes she exhales until a more searing pain overtakes her body. She instantly clutches her abdomen and falls to the floor, groaning. A warm sensation on her thigh gains her immediate attention but when she looks down the sight paralyzes her. Her hands are stained with blood and it only takes half a second to realize what she’s done. Her rapid breathing picks up more speed before a feral outcry escapes her lungs, unleashing a massive blast of raw energy._ **

As the agonizing vision fades Bridget finds herself sitting on the floor in Greg’s arms. “Bridget. Bridget what’s happening,” the wolf questions, concerned. The pureblood turns her head to him in complete despair. “I created this,” she breathes out, labored.

* * *

 

In a small kitchen area Hayden leans back against the countertop, hands wrapped around a black coffee mug. Pure amusement graces her features as Rebekah drags into the space looking something akin to a zombie. “Welcome back, Cuddles.” The blonde squints at the sunlight filtering in through the window. “What bloody time is it,” she asks groggily.

Hayden twists around slightly to grab another mug before offering it to her guest. “Noonish. You got pretty careless last night so I chose to preserve my life by not waking you up this beautiful morning. Instead I went out for some breakfast and even made my specialty just for you.” Rebekah accepts the mug and eagerly brings it to her lips, sighing in relief as she takes a long sip.

“Thank whatever god there is for your miracle hangover cure.”

“So, crazy night out accomplished.”

The pair grin at each other knowingly. “I haven’t had as much fun since the roaring ‘20s.” Hayden raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Really now? Unbelievable,” she remarks. “I can’t fathom why. Lively music, endless booze. Brazen potential suitors trying their hand at acquiring a new bed warmer for the night. All the checks in place were there, save for the dazzling trappings of course,” Rebekah claims. She watches as the bar owner sets her mug down on the counter.

“Hmm…I guess I do see the comparison. You did dance on every table in sight and outdrink a grown man before winning some random arm wrestling match. I was half expecting you to take him home and save him from further embarrassment though.”

“Sexist while overcompensating is not really my type _nor_ a persona I find redeemable in so little time. There were better ways to spend my night and in far better company at that.”

Hayden clicks her tongue. “Better company like…a charming empath with magic for days,” she surmises. Rebekah tilts her head causing a wide grin to settle on the brunette’s lips. “Clearly neither of you were gonna say anything _but_ I saw googly eyes and a barely discreet kiss when Bridget dropped you off at the bar. I knew that she was into someone, but she hadn’t gotten around to telling me who. I should’ve guessed that it was you though huh?” Rebekah breaks out into a child-like smile.

“I have to admit, I would have never foreseen such camaraderie between us. The patient but daring bar owner and the devil-may-care original vampire. Sounds like a tale made just for grins.”

“We’ve unlocked BFF potential now that there’s no more insult slinging over witches that may or may not have been between us.”

Rebekah lifts her mug playfully. “Well, I suppose that us girls will be girls no matter what.” After retrieving her own mug Hayden clinks it with the vampire’s as they both laugh. “But when push comes to shove we must always look after one another despite our petty differences. I’m glad that we have at the very least.” The brunette tilts her head. “Me too,” she agrees, beaming.

* * *

 

At a secluded park Freya, Keelin, and Mikaela stroll along a curving pathway. The littlest Mikaelson swings both of her parents’ arms, lost in random thoughts until she pinpoints a lonely playground up ahead. Her eyes brighten in excitement before snapping to her mother. “Can I go swing, Mama?” An expectant Freya grins down at her. “Of course you can. Want me to push you super high again,” she asks. Mikaela shakes her head. “No thanks. I can do it by myself this time,” she exclaims. Like an unstoppable force she takes off in pursuit of her destination.

“Hey, slow down! Mikaela!”

Keelin chuckles at her anxious wife calling out to the wind. “Hey, she’s fine. Don’t go raising your vitals on this peaceful family outing.” Freya looks to her and gradually surrenders with a playful roll of her eyes. “I just don’t want her to get hurt. She’s so fearless it’s a miracle I haven’t had a heart attack yet.” She allows her wife to take hold of her hand.

“I know. But keep in mind your blood is running through her veins. All of your stubbornness and willpower. Plus she’s been healing herself since she was a baby. Your overprotective ways are the least of her worries, Mama.”

Freya fixes her eyes to Mikaela swinging on the playground. “Still doesn’t stop me from worrying,” she replies, melancholy. For a brief moment Keelin watches their daughter, happily in her own world before examining the sentimental blonde. “I’m not so sure you’re ready for another independent spirit in our nest, Freya Mikaelson,” she teases. Green eyes fall on her immediately.

“Maybe not. But who’s to say our secondborn won’t take after her Mommy in terms of patience?” Keelin quirks an eyebrow. “Her, huh? We’re not even sure we’re bringing _any_ new life into this world and already you’re betting on another little Viking sorceress,” she quips. “Call it intuition,” Freya remarks, smirking. Her soulmate pretends to consider the claim.

“Hm. _Or_ your need to fulfill a fierce coven quota. Girl power!”

“You said it not me,” Freya retorts, shrugging.

The couple laugh as Mikaela comes racing over to them. “Mama! Mommy,” the hybrid calls. Her parents abruptly halt their steps to regard her with concern. “What is it baby,” Keelin inquires. In distress Mikaela presents a pitiful looking bird in her hands. “He’s hurting really bad. I can feel it,” she cries desperately. Freya and Keelin stare at her tenderly before gazing at each other.

* * *

 

“Do you think Jordan had fun last night?”

Jasmine looks over at Taylor as they wander down the vacant hallway. “Yeah. We couldn’t keep her from laughing the entire time. And trust me, I know my best friend’s joy when I see it. It’s been awhile,” the former attests. She watches as her friend looks down at the gold streamers in his hands. “So, are you gonna finally admit to _your_ joy…with Jordan?” Taylor peers up at her, frowning.

“What do you mean,” he questions.

Jasmine tilts her head, incredulous. “Taylor. You’ve been in love with her for how long now?” Suddenly on the spot, the male witch stops walking. “How did you know,” he asks, causing his friend to stop as well. “It’s not rocket science and I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re so into the girl that it hurts me to watch honestly.”

Taylor stares at her before shaking his head. “She would never look at me the same way,” he concludes, earning a regretful gaze. “You should just forget it. Even if there was a chance I’d leave the friendzone there’s too much going on in her life. She lost her parents, found out they weren’t really her parents and learned about her wolf gene. I know I’m not enough to help her through that.”

“Hey, you don’t know that. Girl code states I can’t elaborate but just know that she really cares about you. You guys might’ve drifted apart but that doesn’t change your history. You were one of her first friends ever. Her first crush and first kiss. That _has_ to mean something in the end.”

Some time passes as the pair hold a quiet gaze. “Um guys?” They turn to find Jordan approaching with an uncertain smile. “Ready for a break? I’m getting sick of red and gold, no offense to the guardians,” the hybrid remarks. “Hell yeah,” Taylor quickly agrees. “We were just on our way to find you. In the mood for another awesome playlist?” Jordan darts her eyes between them before grinning widely. “Sure,” she accepts. Taylor throws an arm around Jasmine’s shoulder and moves forward to do the same with Jordan. Then he begins ushering them down the hallway.

“Jasmine just offered to buy us some snacks.”

“I did not. I’m broke.”

* * *

 

At Camp Algiers a group of strangers stand before Bishop. Rounding the cul-de-sac Patrick pulls up to the main house on his red and black sport bike. He places his feet down, cuts the engine, and leans the motorcycle onto the kickstand before removing his black helmet. After securing his gear he swings a leg over and gets off before marching up to Bishop.

“What’s up,” the latter greets, extending a hand. “Hey,” Patrick throws back, shaking his hand. “So, what do we have here?” He chomps away on his gum while inspecting the line of men and women. There’s a burly man in flannel, a tall scraggly one next to him. Further down the line is a short, lean young man in a baseball jersey followed by a young woman with tattoos and piercings.

“Well, honestly most of them don’t look like much but…I kinda like this group,” Bishop claims. Nodding, Patrick thinks for a moment as the recruits look on with hope. An older woman in a purple and black workout attire catches his eye. He furrows his eyebrows and leans his head over into Bishop’s space.

“What’s up with the grandma? Is this supposed to be your unusual form of entertainment?”

“Hey, I thought we were an equal opportunity employer.”

Unamused, Patrick gives the younger vampire a judgmental look. “Marcel wants a real army backing him. Strength is in numbers but it’s also in quality you ass,” he scolds. “Come on, man. Whatever happened to not judging a book by its cover? Grandma is actually in better shape than half the potential recruits here. Just give her a chance and you’ll see that she has what it takes.”

Patrick examines him for a moment before shaking his head as he looks to the recruits. “Alright then. It looks like each of you have one chance to prove yourselves worthy of becoming something greater. The test is called ‘Passing the Buck’. If you hold your own, stick with it, and make it out in one piece then I will personally see to your grand transformation. Got it?” The recruits nod accordingly. Patrick gives them a once-over and Bishop folds his arms. “Should I just start calling you Marcel Jr. now,” the latter asks. “Doesn’t seem like such a bad thing as of now. This…is what we have to offer the city,” the former retorts. They stare at the awaiting faces.

* * *

 

Aniya focuses on her reflection in the mirror as Jordan enters the restroom. The hybrid comes to a sudden stop alerting the witch to her presence when she catches her gaze through the mirror. “Out of all the places in an empty school you just had to waltz into this one.” Sighing, Jordan shakes her head as she walks over to the furthest sink possible.

“Relax. I’m just washing my hands and after I’m done I will leave you to your angry party of one. Is that okay with you?”

Aniya smiles bitterly at the mirror. “Great. Just hurry up before you start to get on my nerves,” she orders. After turning the faucet on Jordan gets some soap from the dispenser and lathers it in her hands. “Now would be the time for someone to explain how you don’t _actually_ own the school. You’re not even blood related to Principal Thornton,” she speaks up, earning a scoff.

“One lineage project looking to be aced out of pity and now you’re suddenly the expert on family.”

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you today. We can just pretend we don’t exist to each other if that really works best.”

Grabbing a wipe Aniya begins to remove her bright red lipstick before selecting a nude one from her bag. “Not surprising you’d say that, pretending you’re not using the ‘sad girl’ image to suck up all the attention everywhere you go. You might have Taylor fooled but not me. I see right through your choice to include all that info on your pack of savages. You obviously want to be centered in a school full of witches, Jordan. You want to stand out and be seen as brave or unique for letting your freak flag fly.” Jordan cuts the faucet off and snatches a paper towel to dry her hands in. She tosses the wad in the trash and hurries for the exit.

“Or. Maybe you are fully embracing this new werewolf identity now. I mean you fell into it so easily didn’t you? Almost like you were never a Matthews.”

Jordan abruptly stops and spins around to lock onto Aniya through the mirror. “You should focus on worrying about your own life, Aniya. But then again that would really suck huh? Having to watch your mom pick up the pieces that your dad left behind, giving in to the thoughts about why he just up and abandoned you both. The truth is that you terrorize me because it’s your only escape from your terrible reality. I pity _you_ because Taylor was right before. You really are just a miserable little girl craving daddy’s love and affection.”

Aniya finally stops applying her lipstick and gives Jordan a menacing stare. Her turbulent magic cracks the mirror and she hastily packs up her things before whirling around to confront the hybrid. “You better not get too comfortable, Jordan. Taylor can’t play Superman forever and I’m done with all the tiptoeing around your fragile little wolf emotions.” Without another word she pushes her way through, swinging the door open to exit the restroom. Now alone Jordan hugs her arms before studying her reflection in the fractured mirror.

* * *

 

Onstage an energetic quartet plays a jubilant Dixieland tune. Patrons seated around the dimly-lit club clap their hands and groove to the music. In a secluded corner JD and Veda sit at a small table cluttered with wine glasses. The vampire glances at his grimacing date, silently admiring the blue bar light shone on her face. “I sure do like it when you don’t hold back on the fun,” he remarks.

Veda turns her head to meet his eyes. “Forgive me for not rejoicing in the presence of such atrocious company and far worse noise,” she snips. A dramatic groan escapes her lover as he grabs his chest, feigning hurt. “Well, I’ve never gotten that manner of response from any dates in the past,” he claims.

“Perhaps this cursed tavern was the furthest thing from their privileged little worries. I do wonder why in all of New Orleans am I here on your aggravating persistence.”

“Once upon a time this was a nice little spot to dance and enjoy life for me. Most days I could spend hours here. I wanted to share it with you.”

Unimpressed, Veda tilts her head. “And why would you want that, James? According to your current manner of courtship I have returned to a tragic life of nomadic peasantry. Though at least my suitors would have bestowed a thousand compliments upon me and asked for my hand in marriage by now,” she proclaims. JD tilts his own head in sudden interest.

“Well if that’s all it takes to please you then of course my name is yours,” he remarks, confident.

In response Veda presents a sardonic grin. “Only in your most distant dreams would I ever become the fourth Madame Walker. Truthfully, you are the sole vampire to ever make it past my impenetrable defenses. I suppose I am now the foolish hypocrite lacking any sort of depth.” JD leans forward, invading her space. “Or you’re a woman that knows her worth. In any case I never married. Never saw much of a point in it when my heart belonged to the magnificent American Dream.”

“Of course. I would expect nothing less for you.”

“Of _course_ there was no one quite like you around my circle back then. Maybe I could’ve settled down in my kingdom.”

“A blind man would have a better chance at discovering a more vibrant shade of red, darling. Bless the spring lamb willing to swear herself to an everlasting bachelor.”

JD raises his eyebrows playfully. “It’s like that huh? Well, it would’ve been an injustice not to have swept you off your feet. For that reason alone I get the unfortunate sense that some poor bastard had the fight of his life with you.” Veda tenses a bit but recovers in seconds. “If one had then he should have been denied such a pleasure. Regardless, the _bastard_ is long gone now along with the multitude of castaways from my past life.” JD rests his hand on top of hers with a knowing look. “Your methods of seducing strong-willed witches fail to make any sense at the moment. How could they ever fall for such tactless calculation.”

“Seducing you was never a part of the plan, I can assure you of that. We’re here right now, together, because I feel that we should truly get to know one another. I want to know everything about you.”

“Were you always so immersed in fulfilling every desire no matter how hopeless, James?”

“Not always. I was piss poor until I demanded the best for myself.”

“Well we have that in common I must admit. I was never meant to live such a demeaning life and I am nearly shamed by the time it took to reconcile that.”

“Because of the nomadic peasantry I presume.”

Veda slides her hand out from under JD’s. “You will not be comparing tragic tales in this disgraceful jazz bar. Have I not been forthright?” Easing back in his chair the vampire raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, I got it but tell me this. No matter where we come from there’s always a piece that was worth it. A piece that gives us heart, sometimes regret or pain but always heart and soul. It never leaves us because it’s in our blood. Looking at you, seeing you for who you really are. I know it’s true. So, tell me if I’m wrong.” Veda lifts her chin, visibly engaged.

* * *

 

Positioned upright at the table Bridget flips through the pages of a thick book. Her steely eyes scan the information as her lips murmur the trivial words. Finding nothing of use she gives in to her growing frustration by slamming her palms on the table before stalking over to a shelf. “What are you doing, B?” Greg sighs out, watching as the witch reaches for another book before ambulating around the library. “Finding a way to free you from my nightmare prison,” Bridget retorts, skimming more pages.

“It hasn’t been a nightmare. A little restricted for an afterlife but not a nightmare okay?”

“A construct is energy that has been programmed with a set of instructions to perform a task.”

Greg frowns at Bridget as she suddenly spins around to regard him with a hum. “Maybe I should just create one of these to do the job for me. Sounds good right? Oh wait, there’s a bunch of gibberish in here about manipulating psychic energy. You know, things only a _true_ psychic would understand. There’s nothing here about creating realms or freeing souls, Greg.”

The werewolf approaches the pureblood with confidence. “That’s because not everyone is going around sharing the secrets of world building. What we do know is that way back the world’s first psychic created a whole afterlife of misery using the same involuntary method as you. The mechanics of it may not be recorded but history is still written. As for freeing my soul, I imagine it’s similar to casting a spell. You either want me to pass on or…you want me to stay here.” Dark eyes focus on him in shame evoking a flame to burst behind him. Both Bridget and Greg jerk away in surprise at the occurrence, the former hurrying over to the table where the fire quells abruptly. The wolf saddles up beside the witch and they discover the books in perfect condition.

“And…my theory stands.”

“I’m sorry,” Bridget apologizes, turning to Greg. “Performing some crazy mental push to right my wrongs is a lot harder than it looks. I _never_ wanted this for you.” Her lost love nods in understanding. “I know. Just talk to me,” he pleads, eyes shining. Bridget shakes her head. “I’m not talking about that. I’d rather not talk about it okay,” she refuses, adamant.

“Okay but listen to me. When I first got here I was lost. I was newly deceased, still riding the high of finally knowing that the woman I loved felt the same. And I felt guilty about not fighting harder for my friends. All of that was wrapped into one soul, _my_ soul. But then there was this…indescribable warmth I felt around me in this house. Everywhere I went there it was. And when I finally wandered into that nursery it all made sense. That child you lost was your greatest pain but somehow it became the foundation for something else, a new connection. What would’ve been my own blood gave me comfort and kept me hopeful. It pushed me to never give up. I know you wanna get away from this, from all the internal issues but there comes a time when you just have to fight through it like any other demon. That starts now. You’re gonna focus, free me, get home to help your family, and when that’s done you need to work on making peace with yourself, Bridget. Forgive and truly allow yourself some happiness. Do it for me since you can’t seem to break the selfless streak for your own good.”

Bridget processes his words for a moment. “How do I do that? I haven’t truly made peace with anything in my entire life. Not even when I had you willing to stick by me through it all,” she admits dejectedly. “Start by thinking about what’s waiting for you on the other side. All of the love you found in Keelin and Freya. The pride you reserve for Mikaela who’s growing up so fast. The adventures with your friends, the opportunity to guide Jordan,” Greg presents before pausing. “A shot at something real with Rebekah.” Bridget’s eyes widen, discerning the wolf as he smiles.

“My memory only serves your faults at this point and I remember clear as day the last conversation we ever had. You refused to give up on what you believed was right even if it meant forcing me into a peaceful life without you. But ever since then I’ve witnessed how you’ve done the exact opposite for yourself funnily enough. Ruining something good, a bit of hope any chance you got. It was all because you were scared of letting go and allowing yourself to get too comfortable. You can’t keep repeating the same mistakes and using the same unfailing rationale for it. It’s time to break the cycle and completely throw at the blame you carry for yourself because I _can’t_ be another reason for it.” Greg shakes his head as Bridget stares at him helplessly. “This drawn out punishment of holding onto every single thing you’ve ever lost will kill you. It has to stop now.”

“But…”

“You do know how. Does the restless spirit of a weredoctor really have to guide the maverick witch into playing by her own rules?”

Halting her protests Bridget musters a lukewarm grin. “I guess not,” she offers, earning a nod. “I want to be the memory you promised I’d be. Something to celebrate and look back on with that true carefree smile of yours. I may be gone but you have a whole life ahead of you to live. And when the time comes we’ll meet again. You can count on that,” Greg affirms, resolute. He gazes at the woman biting her lip before finally nodding.

“I’m not as selfless as you like to think but I’m gonna make it right,” Bridget declares, pausing. “I will always love you for being the one that saved me, my eternal voice of reason.” Greg gives her a heartwarming smile. “I will always love you too, my one and only witchy witch,” he retorts. The pureblood slowly wraps her arms around him while closing her eyes. She feels his chin resting on her head as he gently rocks her. Sighing out she concentrates, registering the intake of breath coming from the man.

“Goodbye, B.”

Recognizing the itch of regret Bridget opens her eyes, just catching Greg’s vanishing form. In a split second she’s gasping for air in her physical body. Sitting up on the cold floor of Kieran’s closet she looks around while steadying her breathing. After a moment she looks down at her shaking hands before dropping her face into them.

* * *

 

In the study Mikaela concentrates on stirring a thick mixture in an antique bowl. From across the room Freya carefully brings the sickly bird over to the desk. “Alright, baby girl. Your friend seems to be ready now,” she announces. Her daughter pauses her task to peer up at her with uncertainty. She tilts her head with awareness. “He’ll look a lot better once we help him okay? I promise.”

“Okay, Mama.”

Freya gives the little girl an encouraging grin. “Good. Now how about you hold him for me.” Mikaela offers her hands, palms facing up and the bird is gently lowered into them. Then she spectates her mother scooping up some dark green paste from the bowl before using her fingers to spread it down the creature’s spine. “Right now he’s suffering from all kinds of aches, but this old recipe will give him strength.”

“From nature,” Mikaela inquires, examining the bird. Freya nods affirmatively. “These herbs are special because you can only find them deep in the forest. I used to collect them as a girl. Nature’s secret ingredients is what many witches call them. Putting them all together in just the right dose strengthens their properties _meaning_ …no more hurting for this little guy,” she remarks.

“Why can’t I just do magic like normal, Mama?”

“Well, spells are more than just using your powers,” Freya states, finishing the action. “Sometimes you need tools, especially when you’re still learning. You won’t always be able to rely on pure magic alone. As witches we draw upon many forces of nature, channeling the elements first and foremost. Water, earth. Fire and air. You’re still learning about how special that connection is.” Mikaela nods in understanding, albeit a little disappointed and Freya grins widely. “ _But_ …lucky for you this is the fun part.” The blonde places her hands underneath her daughter’s.

“Remember what we practiced,” she asks, gaining a quick nod in response. Without further ado she begins chanting. “Sanare morbus, sanare morbus.” Mikaela joins in creating a perfect harmony. It isn’t long before the little bird pokes his head out with a lively chirp. The hybrid perks up. “Look, Mama! We did it! He’s all better now,” she exclaims, grinning as her mother chuckles.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

Mikaela nods enthusiastically before lowering her gaze to examine the bird closely. Freya pulls her hands away while biting her lip. “I’m gonna go clean up a bit and then we can get him some food. Okay?” Hazel eyes peer up at her. “Okay, Mama.” With another proud look the Viking spins around to leave the study as the child marvels at the animal.

“You feel all better now don’t you?”

The bird chirps rapidly causing Mikaela to giggle as she strokes his soft brown-olive feathers. Suddenly the bird flees from her hold and lands on the wooden table several feet away. Mikaela scurries over as the bird shakes his feathers. “It’s okay,” she coos, reaching out to gently pet him. Closing her eyes she focuses her magic and the bird settles down before singing a tune.

Bright eyes crack open to watch the creature hopping about the table in wonder. Mikaela stands in place, musing until her feathered friend steps on a slightly displaced portion of the desk. Curiously, she cups her hands around the bird and moves him to the side before cautiously sliding the tabletop upwards. With the loose wood out of the way she ogles the contents inside of the table: a few daggers, some old talismans, a skull, vials and bottles of distinctly colored liquids, a few jars of ashes, thorns, animal claws, and a heart. She reaches into the secret compartment and selects the jar containing the organ from the little shelf.  

As she inspects it Freya enters the study and stops dead in her tracks. “Mikaela,” she alerts firmly. Mikaela flinches and the jar drops in the process. As the glass shatters the bird dashes over to a shelf and terrified hazel orbs meet frantic green ones. “I’m sorry, Mama.” Freya shakes her head at the urgent apology, attempting to relieve some tension. “You’re not supposed to be in there.”

She crosses the distance to swiftly pick the child up, evading the pieces of glass as she rotates around. Keelin appears in the doorway with a look of concern. “What happened,” she questions. Her worry is cemented as Freya breezes past her with Mikaela on her hip. “Freya.” The witch spins around sharply. “What Keelin,” she bites. Her wife frowns prompting her to give in with a rueful sigh.

“I’m sorry. I just found her in things she shouldn’t be seeing. _My_ things.”

Keelin scrutinizes the two guilty expressions within view, quickly comprehending the situation. “I’ll clean it up okay? Just try not to freak her out until then,” she directs. Freya barely nods before turning to walk down the hall as Mikaela clings to her neck. Sighing out Keelin rubs at her forehead and wheels around to enter the study.

* * *

 

At Camp Algiers Bishop stands in front of six recruits. A gust of wind alerts him to Patrick’s sudden arrival. “Still waiting on the rest of them,” he informs. “But like I said they’re a tough bunch, even grandma.” The older vampire reviews the bruises displayed on some of the humans. “I’ve gathered. The stuff is in my bag so let’s get going. We’re done here,” he declares, earning a frown.

“We’ve got six out of ten here. Now my math isn’t the sharpest but that means we still have four more soldiers to turn,” Bishop retorts. Patrick steps forward, shaking his head. “Not anymore. I don’t think they really wanted it as bad as they led you to believe, my friend. Hold out your hands and show me your rings,” he commands. The recruits follow the instruction and uncover the silver rings in each of their palms. “I sensed some uncertainty in this group, another vibe that could give way to greed and disloyalty. A hunch I guess. So, to avoid initiating recruits that are here for all the wrong reasons I decided to plant just six potential daylight rings instead of ten around Algiers. More competition brings out the fiercest warriors and the cowardly opportunists.”

“Good point,” Bishop quips, folding his arms. 

“After I advised you all to work together as a team to locate the rings, based on the clues provided, I compelled each of you to give into your true instincts and do whatever you thought was best for the situation. Be it working towards one common goal with your unit or choosing power, the right to be selfish,” Patrick reveals, lifting a gold ring. “This is the crown that your chosen leader was supposed to hold. Anyone strong enough to make the decisions was welcome to fight for it whenever they deemed themselves fit. Three changes in leadership and in that timespan this was thrown away in fear, and most notably stolen to be pawned off by a fellow potential until I stepped in.” The recruits twitch unexpectedly and Patrick nods in short, lowering his hand.

“Yeah. I kept an eye on things. And apparently…not everyone was willing to change their lives after all. Doesn’t matter now because with four rejects out the way I can finally see the potential here that my partner sees. The determination, the heart. And I believe that we can make warriors out of you hopefuls. So, if there are any lingering second thoughts then now is the time to speak up.”

The recruits look around at each other quietly, no sign of opposition.

“Good. Get ready for the rest of your unnatural lives ladies and gentleman.”

* * *

 

“After our mother died my youngest sister was prone to meddling in my things, many of which were passed down to me. Beautiful fabrics, handmade jewelry, even less meaningful possessions. However, one day she set her sights on a precious ruby amulet. She couldn’t have understood why she chose it out of all the trinkets and at the time I couldn’t be bothered to sympathize with her ignorance. All that mattered to me was that amulet crafted by my mother. And so we both learned a valuable lesson in the form of a venomous quarrel. One that ended in the embers of our godforsaken little hovel, just to paint an accurate depiction. My coward father was outraged but it hadn’t mattered to me in the slightest because…I was finally allowed the freedom in pulling from depths thought unreachable. I could truly fight for what I believed in despite the naysayer or the social constraints. I was a warrior rather than a hollow shell of a fledgling woman and fire lived within me. And so…that was the day I truly found my heart and soul. Even if the world sought to quell such flames ever since.”

Veda sparingly takes a sip of red wine and sighs out in sweet release. JD gazes at the witch, engrossed in her. “And I do pity anyone bold enough to try,” he remarks, evoking a tipsy grin from his date. “How about your baby sister? Did she make it out in one piece, stumble upon a new self-discovery?” Veda waves him off, sneering.

“Nonsense. I would have never slain my own blood in a thousand years. They are undoubtedly my strength, even now. However, I might have struck Maisah like the devil himself for her poor judgement. Otherwise she was spared of an unpleasant existence on my part thereafter. As for the matter of self-discovery, well, her potential was impossible to dismiss. Unfortunately we both were much like our beloved mother before us. Impressionable and full of reverential awe for my father. Denying our abilities was indeed his specialty.”

JD furrows his eyebrows in thought. “A matriarchal witch tied to a faithless husband.” Veda gives him a mirthless smile. “My mother was a complicated woman whose persona few could dismantle even in her last breath. You once told me that your father was a slave to his pride upon being freed from his shackles. Well, my mother was a different kind of prisoner. One afraid of her true strength.” JD tilts his head, questioning her with his eyes.

“She was an extraordinary sorceress, but she lacked confidence in who she really was. Born from a coven of supreme witches, she was never destined for less. Surely not as the docile wife of a troubled goat herder. But inside of her was a deep rooted fear, the fear of inevitable destruction at her hands. My temper is that of hers and those who conquered many lands before her. The only difference is that her will to overcome such fear burned out as my own grew and shaped into the effortless control you have witnessed. My mother could have thrived under her true calling as Samia, the Divine but instead she lost her spark in the mundane ways of common tribespeople.”

“And yet you didn’t fall into the same trap. You took another path.”

“As I said before, she was a labyrinthine woman. I believe that as her eldest daughter she saw me as repentance for abandoning all she knew, for chasing something as fleeting as security with a mere mortal man. She was not so foolish to deny that the magic in her bones was forever. So, in some form of confidence she left that pride to me as a child, singlehandedly giving shape to my magic. An exceptional silversmith she was, pouring every ounce of her soul into each detail. That was how she taught me the ways of our ancestors, through channeling gemstones. And that precious ruby amulet was my most efficient charm of all. In her ailing state she enchanted it just for my sake, knowing full well that nothing would ever succeed in tarnishing our legacy.”

“There’s no escaping what’s living in your blood. No point in even trying.”

Veda lifts her chin as JD sips his drink. “It would appear so. I cannot deny my instincts just as you cannot disguise your obsessive tendencies. Therefore, you should allow me to act as the more adroit voice within your mind. The owner of this bar has arrived.” She smirks as her companion quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t truly see me as a spring lamb do you, James? I know better than to believe this intimate little outing as anything other than narcissism at its finest. You want to gain my trust all the while utilizing my talents. Resisting the chance to show me off to whomever you please is simply not in your nature.”

JD shakes his head with an incredulous chuckle. “Why did you string me along then? Allowing me to bring you here, telling me all those things about your family,” he asks. “It’s quite simple, darling. I enjoy being shown off,” Veda answers. “Recollections of the past, however, were not intended. Perhaps I am not completely impervious to your charms and persuasion. So, is the owner not the current man to see on your ever growing list.”

“Dexter Cambridge IV. His great-granddaddy kept a fraction of my dark objects as a favor to me. But now…there’s one in particular I may need.”

“Of course,” Veda remarks, bringing her glass to her lips. “Hopefully your persuasions will see Mr. Cambridge faltering with ease. Though that may prove difficult in this marvelous time of change.” Rising up JD straightens his suit jacket. “Good thing I’m a man of many talents.” He winks before turning around to spot a well dressed man talking on the phone at the bar.

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this,” Freya questions, eyes narrowed. “It wouldn’t be the first time Marcel tried to feed false information to make Veda the bad guy.” Mikaela is perched on the Viking’s lap, quietly playing with her voodoo while Keelin sits next to them on the couch. Bridget stops pacing and looks at the blonde.

“Yes, I’m sure. She’s in the midst of a twisted domestic partnership apparently. Marcel saw it with his own eyes and I even checked it out for myself, _not_ that he didn’t sell me a good story last night. It hasn’t been going on too long though. My guess is the scheming picked up once Keelin kicked Veda out.”

“So, she’s been busy plotting revenge with Marcel’s enemy. Should we be expecting World War III,” Keelin asks, frowning.

“I’m not sure. But you know how much her contempt for him rivals Freya’s. It makes sense that she would hook up with someone who has an ongoing vendetta against him. Speaking of which, Marcel told me all about his old friend’s way with women. He knows how to charm fierce witches to his advantage, essentially making up for the loss of his own magic. Veda isn’t weak minded by any means but when her emotions come into play it’s a different game. So, my doubts about her sharing secrets with her new man are few. Still I don’t have proof of her stirring up any trouble just yet.”

Instinctually, Keelin rests her hand on Freya’s thigh. Bridget allows her friends to mull over the information before biting her lip in anticipation. “I’ve thought a lot about everything,” she speaks up. “And I’m gonna help nip this in the bud before it becomes a real threat. For all we know it already is, but I wasn’t gonna jump the gun and make that call without talking to you first.”

Freya examines her for a moment before sighing. “This shouldn’t be your burden. If Veda is really a part of Marcel’s vampire problem after all then it’s my responsibility to stop it,” she resolves. “It’s no secret that you and Marcel are two opposing forces, so I believe that me working with him is in everyone’s best interest,” Bridget insists, watching her friend shake her head.

“You don’t understand. I literally turned my back on Veda, so this could be all my fault.”

Bridget and Keelin give Freya puzzled looks as she casts her eyes down. “After we talked about my issues the other day I went to go see Veda. She had something to tell me, but I brushed her off,” the latter explains, peering up at her friend. “I just wanted everything to be okay with Keelin and our family. So, I told Veda that I had to let her go in order to ensure that. Needless to say, she didn’t exactly take it very well.” She goes quiet as Mikaela rubs at an eye and leans back against her chest. Bridget and Keelin gaze at her while processing the unexpected admission.

“Freya. You know what this means.”

Freya turns her head to look into Keelin’s eyes. “Yeah, I know,” she confirms, nodding. Tension fills the silence of the courtyard. “We’re gonna make sure no one gets caught in the crossfire.” The couple redirects their gaze to Bridget simultaneously. “We do this together as a family,” the pureblood avouches.

* * *

 

At Camp Algiers a young woman accepts a blood bag from Bishop. She briefly examines it before he signals her to drink with a simple nod. Bringing the bag to her lips she begins sucking the liquid, shrugging at the metallic taste. In seconds a wave of euphoria passes over her and her true face emerges. Dropping the plastic she chortles as the newly acquired vitality cruises through her veins.

“Try out the new skills. Just remember not to wander too far alright,” Bishop states. The recruit pulls her waist length braids back and smirks before speeding off. “Do you think she got that?” A young man springs to life and looks around in confusion. Patrick grabs his hand to pull him up to his feet. “I hope so for your sake,” he replies, throwing Bishop a glance. “It’s either keeping her in line or meeting Marcel’s bench.” Fixing his eyes to the vampire-in-transition he offers a blood bag. “Welcome to the other side.” The man runs a hand through his wild curls before accepting it.

After gaining his bearings he hastily ingests the blood and throws his head back in ecstasy. “I feel so damn good right now,” he yells, fangs protruding. Patrick slaps a hand on his shoulder. “Just keep that same intensity for the next few decades. Go on but stay within baby vamp town limits.” With a deadpan expression he watches as the recruit zips away before turning to Bishop.

“Well, that’s the last rookie. Give them a little more playtime around the woods before taking them to headquarters.”

“Don’t you wish your turn was as magical as they make it seem?”

“Of course. Would’ve saved me some grief and denial.” Bishop chuckles and Patrick grins before roaming his eyes over the land. “They don’t know how good they have it.” In the distance the last recruit races a fellow new vampire and leaps onto the main house. He balls up his fists and inspects them with excitement. Patrick quietly considers their thoroughgoing bliss. “Hey, isn’t that the Matthews girl? This should be the last place she’d wanna visit,” Bishop points out. His superior narrows in on Jordan trekking onto the grounds with earphones in.

“I’ll get her to leave. Can’t have any mishaps on our hands.”

He sprints over using regular speed to avoid startling her. “Hey!” Jordan stops in her tracks and rips the earbuds out, suddenly on high alert. “What are you doing here,” she questions. Patrick raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, I could ask you the same. It’s not very safe here in general, add in the fact that there’s a group of vampires running around the area.” He notices how the girl immediately goes cold. “You’re one of them?” Eyeing her carefully he nods to confirm the suspicion.

“I’m in charge of them. And they’re new so I need to keep them out of trouble which means away from live blood for now. I don’t want you or anyone else hurt in case you’re worried about that. I just don’t think you should be here right now.”

“Well I don’t buy your concern. Sorry.”

“Fair enough but it’s real. I’d rather you just take my word for it.”

Jordan shakes her head. “Listen, I’ve had a pretty bad day and I’m not in the mood for this. I didn’t come all this way just to turn around because you said so. Excuse me.” She tries to move ahead but Patrick swiftly grips her wrist on reflex. “It’s for your own good. I can’t let you past me,” the vampire affirms, shaking his head. Gazing into austere eyes Jordan feels a strange familiarity. However, she pushes the sensation away before throwing him onto his back with telekinesis. “Don’t touch me.” Bishop materializes next to Patrick and helps him up. The six recruits appear in varying blurs with looks of concern. Two of them race towards Jordan but meets a flaming barrier instead causing them to jump back hissing. Everyone gapes at the hybrid in astonishment.

“I know why you’re here,” Patrick speaks up, dusting himself off. Jordan raises her eyebrows but keeps her hands up defensively. “And I get it, believe me. It’s messed up. There’s a lot of tension here. Painful memories, heightened emotions. Just let me get you home safely, anywhere you wanna go but this place. Or better yet, how about you cut me a break and save _my_ ass from this one? You’re clearly the one in control here.”

He cautiously approaches the barrier of fire while Jordan gazes at him, conflicted. “Come on. I give you my word, a soldier’s honor code.” Reaching into his shirt Patrick grips the chains around his neck to dangle some dog tags. Jordan sets her eyes on them for a moment before scrutinizing him. Finally she quells the boundary by lowering her hands. Patrick nods in silent approval.

* * *

 

Sharon enters the courtyard and quickly spots Keelin heading towards a staircase with Mikaela in her arms. “Keelin,” she calls out. The werewolf twists around to find the witch stalking over to her. “Hey,” she greets, offering a small smile. Once in front of her Sharon musters a grin of her own. “Hi. I wasn’t sure if you got my message, but I was already nearby, and the gate was opened so…I hope this is okay.”

Keelin examines her as Mikaela tightens her arms around her neck. “It’s fine. I was actually going to check my phone after I got this one to bed.” Tilting her head Sharon gazes at the child partially burrowed in the crook of her mother’s neck. “Hi, Mikaela. You look about ready for some good rest huh?” She grins sullenly as Mikaela nods against Keelin’s shoulder.

“Is her favorite friend around?”

“She should be here soon. Hanging out at Jasmine’s house was a must apparently.”

Sharon nods accordingly. “Well, I have something for _you_ then,” she remarks, presenting a silver key. “This is the key to Daryl’s safe deposit box. I went through his personal things since I had some time today and that’s when I found out about it. I figured it might hold answers regarding his family, so I pulled some strings to give you access. I know how much you want closure for Jordan. It’s yours.”

Speechless, Keelin accepts the key with a gracious expression. “Thank you,” she finally breathes. “I wasn’t expecting anything right away but…thank you. Of course I’ll have to find the best time to talk to her about it. I don’t wanna get her hopes up if it’s just a dead end.” Sharon gives her a look of pure empathy. “I’m confident that you’ll do what’s best for her,” she affirms.

Her own words hit her full force and she’s suddenly downcast, playing with her fingers. The harbored guilt isn’t lost on Keelin who simply watches the troubled woman. “What happened to Daryl and Tanya…none of it was your fault you know.” Sharon peers up at her, lips parting. “You don’t have to say that,” she dismisses, shaking her head. “Everything is fine I’m just…there’s just something else that I need to talk about if you have the time. It’s kind of confidential.” Keelin tilts her head, silently interested. “Okay,” she replies, nodding. “We can talk about it.” Sharon bites her lip before nodding.

* * *

 

Upstairs, Bridget wafts a cloud of smoke around Rebekah’s room. “Someone is feeling quite bold. A privacy spell in the historically intrusive Mikaelson Compound,” the latter questions, standing at the foot of her bed. Once the witch is satisfied she sets the sage down on the dresser and saunters over to the blonde. “Yeah. We have to talk about something serious and I’m ninety-eight percent sure of what your reaction will be.” She watches the amused grin shrink on her lover’s lips.

“I see. What is it then?”

“Last night when I met up with Josh, Marcel was there too.” Rebekah tenses a bit at the mention of her ex’s name but remains attentive as Bridget continues. “They have history, so I didn’t think much of it until Marcel announced that he was only there for me. He gave me a proposition, one that entails subduing Veda who’s actively assisting his old enemy. I can’t just sit back on this one, Rebekah. I just wanted you to know before I give Marcel my answer.”

Rebekah stares at her while plopping down on the bed. “And what response were you hoping for upon giving me the news of your decision,” she inquires. With a sigh Bridget settles down right next to her, gripping the edge of the mattress. “I don’t know.” She receives an incredulous look in response and tilts her head with pleading eyes.

“Understanding. I know how you feel about me getting involved in things like this and the whole working with your ex part is…awkward all on its own.”

“Of course this bizarre alliance is as unpleasant as it is inconvenient, but you are my only concern at the moment. Why would Marcel bring such consequential matters to you of all people? It doesn’t make an ounce of sense to me in a city just crawling with notoriously crafty witches.”

“Yeah. These days the notoriety comes in a two-for-one deal with ego. Witches are at the top of the food chain and vampires are at the bottom now. He didn’t have many options, especially when you consider his history here with the magically-inclined. But…he was understanding about me trying to save Freya all those months ago, helpful even. So…in a way I feel like I owe him this _bizarre_ alliance.” Bridget sighs, shaking her head. “Even if I didn’t feel that way there’s still the case of his scorned sireling seeking vengeance. This city doesn’t need some vampire running around with a god complex and an equally arrogant Veda. I know how she operates, and I was the one that gave Freya the reasons why she didn’t fit into the family mold. Because of that Freya cut her out and now we have a reckless ancient witch on the loose. I have to do something about it.”

Rebekah shakes her head. “Do what exactly? Fight whatever’s lurking in the shadows of poor choices made by my battle-born ex and overhasty sister? Marcel’s enemies are his own and handling that wicked bitch is no one’s job but Freya’s if we’re assigning the task. You should be _tired_ of picking up the bloody pieces every time someone creates a farcical mess.”

“The whole point of doing this is to avoid a _fatal_ mess okay? Right now there’s a common thread between Marcel and Freya but only I can be the middleman they need. They don’t trust each other enough to work together but they know that they can trust me. This is an opportunity to bridge that gap and protect everyone. You know how dangerous Veda is. Just imagine her with a smart outlaw and an endless supply of dark magic.”

“True to your name I suppose.”

Rebekah sighs out in exasperation as Bridget grips her hands. “Hey. I _have_ to help keep everything under control. It’s just something I have to do even if you don’t think so. More than anything I need you to trust me because I could use your support right now. Freya and Keelin are already onboard so I really don’t want us at odds over this, Rebekah.”

Bright blue eyes meet earthy brown ones at an impassioned stalemate. Finally giving in with a sigh Rebekah frees her hands to cup Bridget’s cheeks. “You decide for yourself, Bridget. Despite what you may see my heedfulness as I’m not here to dictate your actions. But if you are holding out for my enthusiastic approval I’d sooner deny you the pleasure. I simply can’t give you that satisfaction,” she concludes, tilting her head. “Just promise me you’ll be careful after accepting Marcel’s terms.” The pureblood offers an appreciative smile.

“I promise that I’ll be fine. And I will _always_ keep you in the loop on this,” she swears.

Rebekah musters a grin for her sake. “I meant it when I said that I trust you,” she reaffirms. “It’s just the world outside I worry about, the powers that be or what have you. I’d be awfully naïve to ignore its true monopoly on dictating fate.” Bridget grasps the vampire’s wrists, caressing porcelain skin with a thumb. The pair search each other’s eyes before closing the short distance with a tender kiss.

* * *

 

In the study Freya sits at her desk, sorting through candid photos of Mikaela. One picture of the then infant making a mess of lunch in her highchair, the next a snapshot of bath time. There’s another one she recognizes from the day her little baby took her very first steps. The heartwarming memories tug at the corner of her lips creating a bittersweet smile. However, it dissolves into sorrow as she pulls the sun and moon talisman from the small wooden box in front of her.

At this moment she’s finding the truth staring her in the face. Just this morning she had reveled in the possibility of extending her little family, but once again her reality has managed to shatter a perfect dream. Within one day her daughter had discovered the evidence of her darker side while she had learned of the potential threat Veda poses.

She’s forever grateful for the partnership she shares with Keelin. Without her she isn’t sure she could’ve survived such a mortifying revelation. Together they had attempted an open dialogue with Mikaela about the things she had seen, but the hybrid was more concerned with _her_ feelings on the matter. After she reassured Mikaela that she wasn’t mad at her but rather embarrassed of herself, all she received in return was a strong hug before the child went silent regarding the situation. Keelin stressed that their home was a safe place where she could always tell them anything, but the little girl had only wished for _her_ peace of mind.

Right now she can’t help but feel undeserving of the unconditional love. One of her greatest fears ever involves Mikaela learning the truth about who she really is. She couldn’t even bear the mere thought of her pride and joy growing to resent her. She’s sure that it would destroy her, just like the hatred inside of her destroyed her own mother once before.

Freya looks down at her compass necklace tucked in the wooden box. How fitting to now be confronted with Veda, the woman she considers a maternal figure. She pulls the charm out of the box and holds it in her hand, circling the pendant with a thumb.

* * *

 

Outside, Patrick parks his sport bike a couple houses down from the compound. Jordan retracts her arms around him and swings a leg over the motorcycle to stand on the curb. She carefully removes the black helmet from her head before handing it to the vampire. “Thanks.” Patrick gives her a small grin. “No problem. It was the least I could do,” he insists. Jordan bites her lip with a simple nod and turns to walk away. Stopping in her tracks she spins around in one motion.

“Why were you turning those vampires all at once?” Taken aback, Patrick gawks at her. “You said they’re new and you’re in charge of them. Plus I saw the blood bags. A happy vampire picnic is the unlikely explanation.” The vampire shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that okay,” he advises. Jordan folds her arms stubbornly. “Organized vampires have been the downfall of my family since before I was even born. One of them carrying an honor code doesn’t change that.”

“Look, you just wouldn’t understand the politics of it all and that’s probably for the best. I can’t help what I am, Jordan. But I can build a decent life for myself and others like me by giving _them_ a choice. None of that includes harming your family.”

Jordan taps her foot while examining his honest features. “You should go before either of my aunts see you. A friend is supposed to be the one dropping me off,” she states, neutral. Patrick watches as she wordlessly begins marching towards the compound. Sighing, he slips his head into the helmet and grips the throttle. After briefly checking behind him he pulls off onto the street.

 


	6. Trouble Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alliances are forged and bonds are broken in the events surrounding Marcel's party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back with another chapter. There's a lot of action in this one or at least I hope I managed to get some high tension moments in. But more importantly there are interactions I wanted to look into like Freybekah of course, a little Keelin/Sharon, Jordan/Mikaela, Bridget/Marcel. With the next chapter being the aftermath of this one the feel of it is similar. As always I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> P.S. not sure if anyone even still checks the tumblr but I'm gonna try to get back into posting the inspos like I used to. Especially since pretty soon we'll be at the second half of the story.
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Grace Mitchell - NoLo: Keelin, Bridget, and Josh prepare for their experiment. Freya and Keelin talk.
> 
> 2) Valley Of Wolves - Reckless: Rebekah confronts Marcel as he prepares for his party; Freya confronts Veda at the market.
> 
> 3) Mitch King - Believe: Jordan helps Mikaela with controlling her magic.
> 
> 4) Simcoe - Afterglow: Keelin's experiment is tested on Josh; Jordan runs into Patrick; Hayden and Isla have a picnic.
> 
> 5) Ailbhe Reddy - Shame: Freya reveals Veda's plan. Rebekah and Bridget argue.
> 
> 6) bülow - SAD AND BORED: Bridget approaches Veda and Marcel talks to JD.
> 
> 7) Saint Mesa - Lion: Freya and Rebekah talk to Alana; Veda follows Bridget upstairs. JD traps the factions and gives Marcel a choice.
> 
> 8) No Wyld - Afraid: Freya goes after Alana in the woods.
> 
> 9) Valen - Cold Blood: Marcel tries to save the faction leaders. Veda and Bridget fight.
> 
> 10) WILDES - Illuminate: Freya brings Alana to the compound; Bridget and Rebekah talk about their fight; Marcel executes JD.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

In the courtyard Keelin rummages through a blue medical bag. Josh pushes the couch away while Bridget secures the chains hooked to two columns. Once the furniture is out of the way the vampire folds his arms, shooting a glance to the werewolf. “Harvesting your best buddy’s blood is a whole new friendship goal.” Bridget tugs on a chain to test its stability.

“She’s been saving me a literal headache of madness, Josh. If her little collection means finding an eventual cure for my disorder then we’re gonna harvest away!”

Keelin turns to face the pair with a bright smile and vials in hand. “As you can see here I couldn’t possibly bear to live without her right frame of mind. So, I guess in a way it’s true. Our friendship rests on me studying her genome and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to protect it,” she proclaims. Bridget spins around to supply a warm smile, beholden to the doctor.

Tilting his head Josh looks between the two best friends with endearment. “Aw, guys. Please don’t get me in the feels right now. I’m still mentally preparing for this mad scientist project.” He allows Bridget to playfully massage his shoulders in an attempt to loosen him up. “Relax. No one’s devising a super serum today. We’re just testing a theory okay? And it means a lot that you volunteered to do this for me. You really didn’t have to,” the pureblood states, earning a sympathetic look from her friend.

“You know I have to. If something’s up with your blood then you have a right to know, Bridget.”

Offering a small smile Bridget nods in agreement, mirroring Josh. Keelin saunters over to them and clasps her hands. “So. Should we do a quick recap,” she asks. Her friends settle their eyes on her before nodding. “Okay. We know that your blood is magically potent from the countless generations of powerful witch breeding. I mean all the spells you bind with it are confirmation of that. And you’ve been isolated from vampires your entire life, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t have noticed any adverse reactions they might have to it. Until…now.” She knits her brows in thought for a moment. “Can you describe exactly what happened with Rebekah again?” Bridget’s eyebrows shoot up as Josh looks on awkwardly.

“Um…like how scary and powerful she looked after getting a taste right?”

“Yeah. I know you said it was like she suddenly became supercharged but are there any more details you think I should know or something you might’ve missed before? I get that you were tipsy at the time.”

Bridget pretends to review the incident. “Um…no I don’t think so. Just the harmless banter, little accident with my lip and her making…contact with my blood. Um, and the blown pupils, her vamp face. Thankfully she’s had a thousand years to master control.” Nodding along, Keelin reevaluates the information mentally but the witch cuts into her next inquiry. “Do you think that maybe this is just an isolated incident? I mean I’ve been around the Mikaelson sibs for years now without issue. I don’t exactly feel like a magical blood bank.”

“She does have a point,” Josh chimes in.

“Well unless you’ve been sharing bloody kisses with another rowdy sibling we can’t really know just yet. And don’t think you’re in the clear just because I’ve been too busy to question _further_.”

With a roll of her eyes Bridget sighs dramatically. “You’ve only reminded me of that for the umpteenth time, mom. But okay. Maybe…certain heightened emotions could’ve played into it?” Keelin tilts her head at the unexpected development until a firm voice interrupts them. “Keelin, could I talk to you for a moment?” Turning around she identifies Freya knitting her fingers together at a distance.

“Sure.”

Her wife offers a microscopic smile and heads toward the kitchen while she turns to her friends. “I’ll be right back.” She follows the blonde to the dining area where they rest by the table. “So, what’s up?” Biting her lip Freya digs into the plastic bag on the table and presents a handful of items. Quirking an eyebrow Keelin recognizes the pregnancy tests and chuckles in disbelief.

“Um, Freya? What are all these for?”

“They’re for you. I got them a couple days ago after thinking about our talk. When you were pregnant with Mikaela your symptoms started showing up about a week or so after we conceived her. I figured that now would be the time to do this. With all the drama going on,” Freya breathes out. “I just want to be sure that another life isn’t at risk. So if you’re carrying our child then I need to know, Keelin. It’s important for me to protect our family. All of it.”

Keelin softens while tilting her head at the blonde. “Freya, I understand the thought process here but I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant. I’ve been looking out for any possible changes too but there are none. No migraines or exhaustion. I feel fine, great actually considering I’m not pulling an eighteen-hour shift on fumes right about now. And remember there was no supernova vision the night of my birthday. I just don’t think this is necessary.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Freya replies, shrugging with a shake of her head. “But isn’t it better to be safe than sorry? Not every pregnancy is the same. We will never have another experience like the one we had with Mikaela. She is our firstborn, Keelin.”

“Wait. Have you really been researching this or something?”

Freya moves in closer, mild expression on her face. “All I’m saying is that it doesn’t hurt to know for sure. Just please consider giving me some peace of mind here okay?” Keelin licks her lips, watching the Viking drown in anticipation as she searches her eyes. “Okay,” she finally gives in. “I will take the test for your peace of mind. All…five of them.”

Her wife eases into a relieved smile as she frowns. “Okay, maybe just three of them if that’s fine with you. Compromise is key.” Freya quickly nods with a chuckle. “Yes, it’s fine. Anything to make sure we’re good here.” After collecting the small boxes Keelin waves them around.

“Coming,” she asks.

“I’ll be up there in a minute.”

Keelin nods and pecks Freya’s lips before leaving. Within her newfound solitude the witch retrieves the phone from her pocket just before receiving a notification. She quickly scans the message onscreen and hastens out of the kitchen. In the courtyard she passes by Bridget and Josh without so much as throwing them a glance. “Tell Keelin I’m stepping out for a little bit.”

* * *

 

“That’s it. I want everything looking good, a grand experience to remember if you will.”

Marcel claps his hands at the several groups of men installing crystal chandeliers and sheer fabrics in the rafters of an outdoor setup. Bishop walks down the main aisle, gazing at the rows of dining tables embellished with silver candelabra, bouquet centerpieces, tall champagne glasses, fine napkins, and polished silverware. He reaches the grinning leader and settles in front of him.

“You really weren’t messing around.”

“Gotta be the envy of a wannabe king don’t I?”

“And I guess the wannabe king likes uppity cocktail parties.”

Marcel gestures his chin to the cardboard box in Bishop’s arms. “What do you have there?” The latter peeks at the contents of the box. “Wrong order. I was gonna pay our friends at the winery a little visit.” The leader shakes his head. “You gotta take full advantage of your compulsion man. Saves you a hell of a lot of problems. And you would’ve gotten the order done right the first time around,” he claims, earning a shrug. “I like to honor freewill and all that,” Bishop retorts. Marcel pats his shoulder. “Alright. Just remember that tonight is important.”

He backtracks away from the young vampire. “This is all about freewill!” Turning around he enters the indoor venue but halts at the sight of Rebekah in his path. The blonde tilts her head with a look of indifference. “Is it now,” she asks. Slowly, Marcel lifts his chin. “Rebekah. Not that it isn’t good to see you after all this time…why are you here?” He watches as she steps up to him.

“Lovely. Saving me the contrived pleasantries by cutting right to the chase. I’m here because we need to talk about your plans with Bridget.”

“So, you’re here to talk plans on the day of my party after being _awfully_ silent for the past week. What? Now you wanna join in on the fun?”

Rebekah all but scoffs in response. “As if I’d accept an invite to your gaudy little masquerade of a death trap. Don’t take my silence as anything but tolerating your shenanigans for that of my sister’s sake. However, I’ve come to fully realize what you expect of Bridget. I cannot allow it,” she resolves, firm. Marcel stares at her wordlessly and she exhales while shaking her head.

“Why the sudden need for such _joyous_ festivities tonight?”

“She didn’t tell you? It was kind of her idea actually. Pretty smart too. You see, I didn’t need any convincing about a classic way to lure my enemy in and draw him out. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. But…she made an even better suggestion about inviting each of the four factions. That way I have unofficial backup without the hassle. JD would be a mad man if he made a risky move in the company of wolves, witches, and vigilant humans. He has too much riding on this.”

“So, you want an easier way to claim your prize and take all the glory. Predictable, but that’s your business. Bridget has done what appears to be nearly all the preparations and tedious spells for your cause leading me to believe that her presence is no longer necessary.”

Marcel holds a hand up. “Whoa. Me and her aren’t done here. Who do you think can handle channeling all that power if need be? I’m a little disappointed that you came all the way to Lakeview just to try and call the shots on _my_ operation. Does she even know what you’re doing,” he questions. “Doesn’t matter. You will refuse her participation or so help me I will tear you limb from limb. How does that sound?”

“Rebekah don’t start.”

“I mean it, Marcel. Don’t test me.”

The vampires stand against each other in silent opposition. “And what about your sister,” Marcel asks, tilting his head. “Are you speaking for her too now?” Rebekah folds her arms. “Does it matter? If she wishes to attend your godawful party then that is up to her,” she replies. Dark eyes narrow in on her. “But not Bridget?” The blonde only stares at her ex-husband.

“Well of course not right? Because there’s something going on between you two. It’s kinda hard not to notice how she cares about you. Then there’s your favorite Clive Christian perfume following her around. Didn’t really seem like her taste but hey, no big deal. Now you’re ready to fight tooth and nail until she’s out of all this. You’re not a pain in the ass Mikaelson for just anyone.”

Rebekah lifts her chin, unimpressed. “Anything between us is no business of yours. Just stay out of it.” Marcel extends his arms in frustration. “Hey, I did just that! I set it all aside because I needed her help to protect everything I care about. So why are you standing here in my face stirring up trouble where there is none?” His ex-wife unfolds her arms and throws a hand out.

“The trouble has been lingering all around this absurd plot and I refuse to let Bridget take part in it tonight!”

“Well I think that’s only up to her. Obviously you know that too because you wouldn’t be desperately shoving demands down my throat if you didn’t.”

“For god’s sake Marcel she is mortal! She doesn’t have the luxury of coming out unscathed like you and I. How could you be so unbelievably selfish?”

“Do you have anything new to tell me? Yeah, we’re invincible alright. The Beast and an original. That doesn’t suddenly make Bridget some fragile run of the mill witch. She’s _powerful_. And I have her back, Rebekah.” They glare at each other, both heaving. “Look, I don’t care what you do with your life. Just take your own advice and stay out of _my_ business. She made her choice so just accept that it really doesn’t concern you.” Reaching his conclusion, Marcel strides past Rebekah as she closes her eyes in defeat, sighing.

“She’s not well.”

Marcel slows to a halt and rotates with furrowed brows. He watches as Rebekah wheels around to face him, licking her lips with a pleading expression. “She may be powerful, but Nature has not always been on her side. I care for her okay? And that means more than you could imagine so will you just hear me out?” Marcel lifts his chin, gazing at her in concern.

* * *

 

Customers wander around the marketplace while eagerly browsing the eccentric clothing and mysterious jewelry. At a secluded booth three men in suits along with a modestly dressed woman stand in front of Veda. “I have provided all that you will need, and I expect the girl to be escorted to my home at a time within reason.” The four strangers nod in unison, their violet eyes glowing. “We expect to make good time,” one of the men states. “Good,” Veda replies, smirking. “You may take your leave now.” With a deep breath she relaxes as they obey under her influence.

“Isn’t it a little too early for voodoo shopping?”

Spinning around Veda discovers Freya standing a short distance away. “Freya. What a pleasure it is to see you. Though might I say you’re appearing a bit peaked. Is _family_ not treating you well?” The Viking tilts her head. “Family is treating me just great actually. I’m more worried about your selfcare. You’re very hard to find these days,” she remarks.

“From my understanding that is what you requested of me and I’ve done a fine job of living my life apart from your own.”

“Finding out about your alliance with Marcel’s old frenemy is not what I had in mind, Veda. You know I can’t just look past that.”

Veda takes a few steps closer. “And why not? Your hatred for Mr. Gerard runs as deep as the blood within your veins. It is an entity far more robust than what resides in me. I find it very difficult to believe in your sudden concern for him,” she expresses. “It’s not about Marcel. I’ve heard the story behind your new friend and only trouble can come from whatever you’re doing with him. Trouble for everyone. Despite what has happened between us you’re still my responsibility in Sharon’s eyes,” Freya attests, finding a darkened gaze on her.

“Well, I haven’t reserved an ounce of care for your obvious desire to control me and you needn’t vex yourself with such tales conjured by that haughty fool. Any harm done here is by his own doing…as well as yours. Not from I or James.”

Whirling around, Veda begins marching away as Freya quickly fixes her lips. “Veda, listen to me. I’m not letting you do this!” The brunette confronts her with a hardened expression. “I will not stand to listen to your feigned authority or desperate plea, Freya! You have made your choice to not merely abandon my side but to apparently rise against what you know! This doltish act of subjecting me to your treacherous afterthought is terribly misguided for your words no longer hold weight, significance, or any sort of power in my consideration. Let this be your wake up call, little bird. Don’t you dare assume such callow attempts to ever be the answer to swaying my decisions.”

Freya parts her lips as a clear vision invades her senses. Veda slices her palm and dribbles blood onto a map before conjuring a location in her mind. The image of a young olive skinned girl with long braids shows through. The brunette is on her knees, closing her eyes tightly as she recites a prayer at her bedside.

Taking Freya’s silence as defeat Veda raises her chin and exhales softly. “Now. I cordially ask that you resign yourself from the honorable task of playing my keeper. I would never wish to see you standing in my way, Freya. And that is for however long I shall remain whole,” she proclaims. Instead of allowing time for a response she vanishes without a trace. As the vision evaporates Freya breathes out anxiously, eyes widened.

* * *

 

A moderate breeze glides through an outdoor display of spirited plants. A timber wheel spins casually as Mikaela reaches out to hold a bold yellow flower in her palm. Chestnut eyes observe her. “Gold lilies represent healing. Makes sense that you’re drawn to it, Nugget.” The little hybrid turns to regard her cousin inquisitively. “Is this one your favorite,” she asks, inciting a huge grin.

“Close,” Jordan answers. “Just about all lilies are my favorites because for me…” She grips Mikaela’s shoulders and turns her toward the variety of lilies present. White, purple, red, pink, and many shades in between. “They help me embrace my power and take control of it.” Wide hazel eyes brighten. “They do,” the child asks. Jordan crouches down beside her with a nod.

“I didn’t always have the best time trying to do that, so I had to practice really hard.”

Mikaela presents a guilty expression. “Like me,” she states, disappointed. Jordan gazes at her sympathetically. “I had to figure out how to learn in a way that worked for me. You’re stronger than I’ll ever be and even then I couldn’t control my power half as good as you do when I was your age,” she reassures.

“But you do now,” Mikaela states, matter-of-factly.

Jordan chuckles at the precocious child. “Yup, I do now. All thanks to these lilies.” She roams her eyes over the symbolic flowers. “I was a very stubborn little kid, very determined too. My uncle was scared that I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Now that I’m older I know that it was because of my wolf side. He didn’t want my temper and aggression to affect my magic so…he used _magic_ to…make that part of me hide for a bit.”  

“Did it hurt you, Jordan?”

“No,” the teenager answers, shaking her head. “My uncle never wanted to hurt me. Everything he did was just his way of protecting me. First was a weird tea that tasted pretty bad.” She cringes in disgust causing her cousin to mirror her with a laugh. “Then there was a bracelet. I didn’t really like it that much either.” Mikaela looks down at her necklace before fixing her eyes to Jordan.

“Sometimes I don’t like my necklace either.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Like I said, you’re stronger than me and even your Mama. One day when you’re bigger you’ll be a master at controlling your magic okay?”

With a pensive look Mikaela nods. “I wish I was bigger now,” she mutters. Jordan tilts her head. “Oh no you don’t. You get to be a carefree kid. Happy, healthy.” She tickles her little cousin who giggles and squirms in her hold. “Free!” Soon after she lets up and hugs her close while resting a chin on her shoulder. “I’d trade places with you, Nugget.” Tilting her head Mikaela spots a wilting gold lily and reaches out to cradle it. Jordan spectates her careful nature for a moment. “Do you believe me,” she quietly asks. Her cousin turns her attention to her with a nod. Biting her lip she begins unlatching the child’s necklace. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Not your Mommy or Mama, not even your Aunties. This has to be _our_ little secret okay?”

“Okay, Jordan.”

After supplying a cautious grin Jordan places her hand underneath Mikaela’s, using the other to grip the child’s shoulder. “Alright. I don’t expect you to know any French and my Latin is not very great so how about you just focus on this. What does magic feel like to you,” the former queries. “Butterflies,” the latter replies dreamily. “In my tummy and all over.” Jordan’s grin expands beyond her control.

“Same,” she imparts. “Imagine you’re releasing a group of those butterflies from a net so that they can have some fresh air, space to flutter their wings. You have to guide them out but after that…you have to just let go and trust. You’re not worried about them going off too far or getting into trouble because you know they’re coming right back to you whenever you call them. Just relax and concentrate. Got it, Nugget?” Mikaela nods simply. “Okay. Close your eyes now and let go a bit. I’m right here if you need me.” The little girl follows the instructions and Jordan begins.

“Belle la vie a cette fleur, maintentant.”

As the teen chants she gradually lets go of Mikaela’s hand and observes the distinct magic pouring into the flower. In amazement she stops chanting altogether once the plant is completely revitalized. She gently holds the golden lily up in her hand as her cousin opens her eager eyes. “I think my baby cousin is on her way to being a master.” Mikaela beams at the healthy flower as Jordan leans her head against hers, proudly gazing at the result.

* * *

 

At the winery Bishop strolls down a row of grapevines alongside an older blonde woman. “I hope you’ll forgive my nephew for the mix-up. He’s permanently attached to his video games and detached from the world itself.” The vampire gives the owner a priceless look. “I know. What’s the use in giving a kid a grown man’s job. The answer is simple. He is all I have, and I trust him. Hopefully, his sense of responsibility will catch up to his smarts sooner rather than later.”

“I think it’s cool, you letting him be a part of something like this,” Bishop states, looking around the vineyard. “When I was his age I had nowhere to go. There was no one.” The woman tilts her head with a sympathetic expression. “I’m so sorry honey but look at you now. Working for an important city leader and still so young. You must be very proud of yourself.”

Bishop offers a genuine smile before shaking his head. “Yeah. I guess I am.” In a quick swoosh JD materializes with a strong grip on Bishop’s neck. The woman jerks in surprise. “Let go of him before I call the police! This is private property!” Tilting his head JD focuses on her frantic eyes. “That won’t be necessary. Go check on your awfully distracted nephew,” he compels. The owner walks around them and heads in the direction of the large house. “What are you doing,” Bishop grunts out, struggling. “Easy there baby daywalker. You’ll see soon enough because we have work to do.”

“You’re crazy, just like Marcel said.”

“Well isn’t he my maker,” JD ponders. In a swift motion he snaps Bishop’s neck and speeds away with his limp body.

* * *

 

“Sorry for the late entrance, what did I miss?” Rebekah saunters into the courtyard but stills herself to watch Bridget and Keelin adjust Josh’s shackles. “Let me guess, I’m just in time for a round of medieval torture,” she surmises, hands on her hips. “Actually,” the witch drawls. “You’re just in time to observe our cute little lab rat here.” Josh lulls his head over to the blonde.

“I’m just gonna accept the super nice compliments and pretend that I didn’t sign up to be a guinea pig.”

“Attaboy. Anything I can do?”

Keelin walks over to the table where her supplies rest. “Yeah. Bridget starts blushing whenever I bring up your little moment, but I need to confirm the timeline of events…” Her words hang in the air as she lifts a vial of blood and checks her notes. “Were there any signs of bloodlust before the bite?” Rebekah folds her arms with a neutral expression.

“Well, I can’t be sure. We had some wine and apparently I was still hungry. My senses tend to blur together under such circumstances.”

The doctor hums and the original chances a glance over at the pureblood shaking her head. “I see. So, it’s possible that your compromised _senses_ are the true culprit,” she speculates, turning to gaze at Rebekah. “Why else would I feel the urge to suck Bridget dry,” the vampire asks, shrugging. “I’m not a barbarian thanks to my best efforts.”

“Of course. I’m just looking at this from every angle okay? If it’s not about mystical blood cravings then that means something else triggered your hunger. Hormones, emotions, a certain energy. And then there’s still the sensation you experienced after consuming her blood. I’m just hoping we’re two for two after this experiment.”

“I have a feeling you won’t rest until this bloody experiment reveals those answers. Hopefully ruling out an obsessive craving on my part.”

“While I’m not worried about your curious company being fatal to Bridget I still find the situation…interesting. Let’s just agree to no more sucking face after this, Baby Mikaelson,” Keelin quips, waving the vial in the air. “Well, it certainly wasn’t my finest hour,” Rebekah throws back. “Can we just get this show on the road,” Bridget asks as she strides over to Keelin. “Here, I’ll feed Josh.”

The doctor quickly snatches the vial before her impatient friend can intercept it. “Definitely not. You’re the catalyst and Josh is our reactant. So, I will be administering the blood okay.” Rebekah approaches her. “Or perhaps I will. I am the strongest and fastest here should Josh experience the same unbearable effects that I’ve endured,” she proposes.

“Because you were designed to be the superior species huh.”

“Precisely according to my dearly departed parents. Although they did retract their starry eyed ambitions rather quickly didn’t they?”

Keelin extends the vial to Rebekah. “Have at it then. Just test his sense of smell before force-feeding him alright?” The blonde attempts to take the item but the brunette snatches it back. “As long as you’re sure you won’t go all bloodthirsty on us that is.” The former tilts her head, feigning a gasp. “Keelin, I’m a lady.” Once again the vial is offered to her and she gladly accepts it. She comes over to Josh, untwisting the cap as Keelin and Bridget stand back. Stopping in front of the test subject she holds the vial up to his nose. “How would you describe this aroma?”

“Uh…sweet maybe,” Josh gulps.

“Fancy a sip, Josh?”

“Ah, well…”

Rebekah grabs Josh by the jaw and begins pouring some blood into his mouth. He mumbles a bit before visibly perking up as she stops. “Whoa…” His pupils dilate. “I feel…pretty great.” His eyes darken as veins pulsate around them. “Can I have some more of that? It’s crazy good.” Keelin and Bridget observe him with concern as Rebekah takes a step back. “How’s that for research,” the latter quips as Josh yanks on his chains.

* * *

 

At the flower nursery, Jordan graciously accepts a light blue vase of lilies from the cashier. “Thank you.” The young man smiles at her kindly. “No problem, Jordan. See you next time.” The teenager offers a hand to Mikaela. “Come on, Nugget. We have time to go to the park,” she informs. The little girl happily takes her hand and follows her to the doors where Patrick suddenly enters. Coming to a halt Jordan gapes at the vampire who quickly masks his own surprise with a pacifistic expression.

“Sorry. Were you going out?”

“Uh…yeah.”

Stepping aside Patrick holds the door open for the pair. Jordan dips her head as she moves forward but stops next to her acquaintance. “Bouquet shopping?” She mentally kicks herself for the stupid, prying question. “Checking in on a special order. There’s a big event tonight,” the vampire replies, nonchalant. “You do know we have phones for that right?”

Patrick looks away with a disengaged sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Sensing his coldness Jordan simply nods before looking down at Mikaela. “Go ahead of me, Nugget.” She guides the child through the exit first and follows behind. Throwing a glance over her shoulder she watches as Patrick approaches the counter and leans over it to speak with the cashier. The door closes obstructing her view.

* * *

 

Under a towering tree Hayden and Isla sit on a wool blanket, hiding from the sun. “Yup. That was life as the baby of six children. Sometime soon I want a family of my own though. I guess one of more average size, two or three kids. Maybe four if all goes well.” The bar owner delights at the thought before snapping back to the reality of their first official date. “No pressure!”

Isla laughs shamelessly, shaking her head. “Hey, it’s fine. I _get_ you because it’s something…I want for myself too remember? A big old farmhouse with a few little ones running around the backyard. I hated being the only child. It was so lonely you know? And having the spotlight on everything I do wasn’t all that fun. I wouldn’t want that for my own children.” The memories create a melancholy atmosphere, but she quickly shakes away the thoughts and musters a smile. “Anyways…I guess it’s a good sign that we’re on the same page thus far.”

“Yeah. I guess it is,” Hayden agrees, chuckling.

The couple stare at each other goofily before moving in for a soft kiss. Hayden reaches up to cradle Isla’s cheek as the witch rests a hand on her hip. After a few seconds Isla breaks the kiss by leaning her forehead against Hayden’s with a barely audible sigh. The latter pulls back slightly, features laced with worry. “Is something wrong,” she questions.

Isla shakes her head immediately. “No. This is perfect. It’s just that…every time I’m taking in the moment, stressful thoughts get in the way. I’m sorry I’m so tense,” she explains, apologetic look on her face. A forgiving smile is offered to her in response. “Hey, I get all the pressure you’re under. I guess I’m just trying to make up for the time we’ll lose once I leave town.”

Isla takes Hayden’s hand into her own. “Don’t remind me. You’re practically my vacation from all this. A small town life is starting to sound more appealing.” The bar owner rubs a circle into olive-toned skin. “Well, you could always come find out for yourself if you ever get away from the big city long enough. I wasn’t sure I’d like it, but I made the transition and it’s been…home,” she attests.

“See, that’s exactly what I want. But there’s this thing about being a legacy…”

“Upholding the family values as the rightful heir. Yeah, I remember. So…how is your family these days?”

“Well…my father has been enjoying his retirement. There’s a country club around here that he’s basically been living at. It might as well be his second home. And my mother, she’s business as usual. Owning land in all the territories by summer’s end is at the top of her list.”

“She’s coming up on that deadline isn’t she?”

Isla fixes her eyes to Hayden’s fingers while toying with them. “Yeah. So, you can imagine how neurotic she is right about now. In more interesting news…what has the adventurous Hayden Faucher been up to without me,” she inquires, earning a slow grin from her date. “Ah, nothing much. My friends have shown me the New Orleans way as much as they can, but they have a lot going on. Other than that…I’ve just been relaxing, taking some good photos here and there.”

“So…do I finally get to know more about these friends of yours or..?”

Hayden chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. It’s only fair now that they know I’m not making you up like some perfect Pygmalion story.” Isla nods along playfully. “Keep going, I’m listening,” she retorts. “Well…okay you know about Bridget, the witch I kinda had a thing with until I… _didn’t_ and then we decided that staying friends was for the best. She’s great though and we get into a lot of adventures together.”

“I’m still kinda jealous of this witch and I just _have_ to be honest about it.”

“No need. She’s completely into someone else. _Trust_ me, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Isla grins with satisfaction. “I’ll take your word for it. Other friend?” Hayden shakes her head. “I’m not naïve enough to assume you’re unfamiliar with this one but…I don’t want any surprises between us. She’s almost an entirely different person from the stories. Emphasis on the almost,” she stresses. Her date sits up with interest. “Okay…you definitely have my attention.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson.”

Stilling in shock, Isla gawks at her but gains her bearings with a short nod. “You’re friends with Rebekah Mikaelson?” Hayden gives her a look of uncertainty. “Yeah…and here’s the double whammy. When I first met her I was seeing her sister. I used to be in a relationship with Freya Mikaelson.” She allows the truth to sink in for the coven leader. “Be honest with me. Are you not okay with that?”

“It’s fine, Hayden. I mean…the Mikaelsons have a lot of bad history with this city but…they’ve also made a huge sacrifice and left us with peace for the past few years. I don’t hold extreme judgment that others might and…if you consider them friends then they must’ve made some major changes somewhere along the way. I just didn’t expect you to be so…intimate with the family.”

“To be fair it was months into us seeing each other before I even knew what or who Freya really was. I had no clue about the supernatural because she wanted to protect me from it.”

“I get it,” Isla nods. “You don’t have to explain but…now I see that you have a thing for powerful witches. Is this your type maybe.” The bar owner chuckles as the mood lightens. “Yeah, it sure seems that way huh,” she asks as her date scoots in closer. “So to clarify…your ex is Freya Mikaelson? How do I possibly follow that one up?” Hayden gazes at her sheepishly.

* * *

 

In the courtyard, Josh inspects the damage on the columns and turns around to give his friends an embarrassed look. “Good thing you magic-ed the hell out of these first huh?” He comes over to stand next to the couch that Rebekah is perched on. Across from her is Bridget and Keelin seated on the other furniture. “I’m literally a vampire pick-me-up,” the witch remarks, bewildered.

“Why is that Keelin,” the original inquires.

“Well, our number one theory is that the magic in her blood is the key. It’s pure, potent…which would be highly sustainable as a source of nourishment for a vampire. She wouldn’t have known this being from a tight-knit witch community most of her life. It’s hard to find a segment of the population so untouched by interbreeding so…she’s a rarity along with her people.”

Rebekah redirects her eyes from Keelin to Bridget, sharing an intense gaze. The wolf tilts her head as she examines the pair closely. “Good, you’re all here. We have a big problem,” Freya announces while quickly drawing near. “No surprise there,” Keelin quips, rubbing her neck tiredly. Her wife finally reaches them and comes to rest with a telling sigh.

“Veda is planning to use one of her descendants for more power. Why? I have no _idea_ , but it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she hates my guts at the moment.”  

“She can’t do that,” Bridget declares, shaking her head. “I made sure that she would never be able to link to Maya again. It’s damn near impossible.” Freya gives her a regretful look. “You were right to plan ahead in the event of her betrayal. You did what I couldn’t bring myself to do.” She shakes her head as the pureblood discerns her emotions. “But Veda was able to locate another descendant that managed to tap into her magic. I saw it and I’m sure that she wants to channel her bloodline.” Bridget rises to her feet immediately. “I’ll let Marcel know what we’re up against.”

“I think this goes without saying but I can’t attend the party tonight. Veda already has her cronies out to do her bidding,” Freya notifies before casting her gaze on Rebekah. “Which means I’m gonna need your help. Are you up for a good old fashioned rescue mission?” Her sister stands up. “I’m due a heroic adventure so why not? Count me in.” Green eyes flit between the pair.

“So, it’s settled. Unless you don’t think you can handle Veda alone tonight.”

Bridget eyes her friend incredulously. “Believe me I can handle her. Everything is already in place, but I’ll definitely be on my guard knowing this.” Without further prompting she begins to walk away until Rebekah speaks up. “Perhaps I could have a word first,” she asks, earning a short nod in response. “Sure.” Three pairs of eyes watch the retreating couple.

“Well things just got more interesting around here. Should I, uh, just go now?”

Freya looks at the visitor with indifference. “Yeah, Josh. Maybe you should,” she deadpans. The vampire nods awkwardly and walks away. Keelin stands up next to the blonde and rubs her arm soothingly. “Hey, this isn’t your fault. Anything you need…I’m here okay?” Freya tilts her head. “I just need you here safe with Mikaela and Jordan.” Her wife searches her eyes. “I’ll hold down the fort, don’t worry. But now would be the time to confront your baby suspicions.” Freya silently questions Keelin.

In the carriageway Bridget stares at Rebekah wearily. “Other than the ensuing crisis what’s on your mind,” she asks. “You’re not going through with this party, Bridget.” The pureblood frowns. “Excuse me?” The original licks her lips. “I was worried about the possibility of you being hurt or worse, so I told Marcel that your availability is a nonentity,” she admits.

Bridget shakes her head in denial. “Seriously? You didn’t.” Rebekah steps forward while nodding. “I did. I told him that you’ve already honored his deal with all you’ve done this week. You’re more than just some witch-for-hire willing to give your own neck at the sight of a few dollars,” she affirms.

“So, you’d rather me just save my own neck instead. It’s not about the money and you know it. I didn’t even accept Marcel’s generous offer. The bottom line is that I’m protecting the people I care about while preventing other casualties. This whole party was my idea and I need to see it through. You had no right to get involved like that.”

“Like hell I had no right. Your protection should be just as much a factor as anyone else’s. And you were adamant about throwing it to the bloody wayside based upon the plans you’ve shared with me so what other choice did I have?” Bridget groans exasperatedly and Rebekah entreats with her eyes. “I won’t allow you to gamble with your life, Bridget. Marcel was able to understand, and he will make the necessary adjustments. You don’t always have to fight the good fight. Certainly not one that isn’t even your own to begin with. This is just too dangerous, and you are far too vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable? All of this is about me being something you can save? I’m not a damsel in distress here.”

“You’re no invincible heroine either. Marcel knows about your gene and now I know about your blood along with that treacherous witch’s plans for the evening. How can you truly expect me to ignore this?”

With a humorless laugh Bridget creates some space between them. Rebekah grabs at the witch’s hand but is instantly hurt by her tugging away. “Bridget,” she tries. “You can’t make decisions for me,” Bridget asserts with a betrayed look. “I told you everything about this because I _chose_ to include you, but I never once asked for your permission. I thought we were on the same page but apparently you’re going behind my back and undermining everything.”

“I’ve _tried_ to understand. I’ve tried to honor decisions, even the ridiculous choice to practically serve yourself on a silver platter. But the truth is that I will never be able to. I can never support you in such a foolish mission. You want to completely surround yourself with Marcel’s ill-equipped vampires when one bloody papercut could send them into a frenzy. You want to challenge Freya’s vile Mother Dearest all on your lonesome to prove just how brave and honorable you are. But I will never let you risk it all for the undying need to fuel this savior complex of yours.”

“None of this is up to you. I’m doing what’s best for everyone so if you really can’t accept it then maybe you should’ve thought more about being with me. Did you even consider what that meant? Or were you too busy romanticizing our obvious differences.” Rebekah blinks a few times and Bridget closes her eyes while regaining her composure. “I have to go.” The pureblood hastily exits the carriageway as the original blows out a breath, shrinking in defeat.

* * *

 

Marcel stands in his office, twisting a shiny silver dagger in his hand. “Is everybody clear on their positions for tonight,” he inquires, gripping the black handle. Patrick regards him with a short nod. “Yeah. If there’s anything to worry about then it would be the catering. As crazy as it seemed before we actually have the makings of an army here.” Marcel finally looks up at him, offering a proud grin.

“That’s because you’re a good leader, one of my best men. Over the years I’ve had a few of those, good soldiers with potential but…none as naturally fit for this as you. Understand that you’re built differently compared to a lot of these guys. I know you probably don’t think so but hear me out. You’ve got the unbreakable stance of a warrior, the flesh and bone of soldiers that fought before you. The blood that runs through you is special, a mark of survival and that can’t be manufactured. It’s real. Like me you didn’t have to learn to be who you are, Patrick. And if I didn’t know any better I would’ve suspected you were born to be a vampire. So…I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”

“Thinking about what? I mean besides my decorated lineage.”

“Making you my official go-to guy of course. Look, I know you only want a peaceful city for vampires. I get that. You have a vision of your people finding more to strive for and being their best self living in prosperity. That’s why you were looking to me when I came back. But I can’t do this without you,” Marcel admits, shaking his head. “I want you by my side where you belong. Once things are settled with JD I will be king again. And when I’m sitting on my throne rearranging this city I’m gonna need someone else with direction to support me. Someone strong enough to stand in front of my army for the challenges ahead. You’re the only one I trust to do that so what do you say?”

Patrick stares at him while considering the offer. “Everyone here has become like a family to me. If I can help give them their city back, their pride and motivation, a _purpose_ …then I say I’m in.” Marcel lights up with excitement and grabs his shoulder, shaking him affectionately. “Well alright then, General Davies.” The younger vampire shakes his head.

“You know I catch a lot of flack around here for being Emperor Marcel II.”

Marcel tilts his head, amused. “Hm. You do kinda favor me on your best day,” he remarks. “Right,” Patrick deadpans. His superior holds him in place with a serious look. “Hey. I consider you a friend, a brother. You _are_ my family and we’re gonna fight whatever stands in our way together. That’s a promise alright?”

“Alright, _brother_ in arms.”

Suddenly, Bridget enters the office and comes to a screeching halt upon discovering the tender moment. “I’m sorry. Punk chick with the piercings said I could come up to see you. I thought you were alone.” Marcel releases his grip on Patrick while grinning at the witch. “I was. Patrick was just letting me know that we’re all set for tonight. Wasn’t expecting you to swing by though.”

Releasing a huff Bridget taps her fingers on her keys before lifting her chin. “Rebekah told me what she did, and I just want you to know, _straight_ from me, that none of what we have going here has changed. I’m still doing this no matter what anyone has to say about it. I’m not some liability,” she declares.

“Rebekah told me everything. What this disorder means for you, all the side effects of your treatment. I can’t have you fainting on me every time you burn out your magic and she’s already set on raising hell if I even think about it.”

Sighing, Bridget tilts her head. “She’s not a concern alright? _I’m_ not a concern. I’ve been doing spells all week without a single headache. Powerful ones remember?” She gestures her head towards the dagger in Marcel’s hand. “I’ve been fighting this disorder since before it even developed. Preparing myself for every scenario, sacrificing everything just to figure out how to stop it. It’s been my worst fear for so long but when I first learned that I have it I refused to let it take me the way that it did my mother. I know you already got the dramatic history of it all but just know this. I control my life. Not this monster inside of me, not Rebekah, and not you Marcel. I’m never gonna set aside the people who matter or the things I value for anything okay? So don’t sideline me now. You’re a strategist and you know that I’m your best shot at getting this done right. Oh, and wouldn’t you like to hear about the update I brought with me.” Marcel lifts his chin, involved.

* * *

 

Sitting on a bench alone Isla looks out at Lake Pontchartrain. She grabs her phone from her jacket pocket, unlocks it, and taps the screen before pressing the device to her ear. She waits a few moments until the line connects and jumps to speak first. “Our deal is off.” On the other end she hears some shuffling followed by a dramatic sigh. “I don’t find your fatal sense of humor very amusing,” Veda remarks.

“I mean it. I’m not giving you those weapons, but I will find a way to get Dominique out of your manicured clutches.”

“I beg to differ. Your dear aunt is quite comfortable in my care and I have enough preparations to oversee without your sudden quandary. What has gotten into you?”

Isla shakes her head. “I can’t be the means for you to harm Rebekah Mikaelson. She’s done nothing to me. If you want Marcel Gerard then fine but a Mikaelson is off the table. Okay?”

“It seems you have forgotten the glorious details of our arrangement. We require those weapons made specifically for the golden-haired leech. Marcel is to remain untouched as he will be enduring a separate fate. One rather everlasting if you recall our very first chat.”

“Well sorry for your Sunday plans but I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“Oh, but you will. And you must honor the covenant that has already been made shall you wish to see your world remain intact. There is no turning back my noble fledgling so stand upright in your task. You are working for forces far beyond your own reach are you not?”

Isla holds her face in her free hand. After a few moments of silence Veda breathes into the line. “However, I can easily sense your wavering faith. Despite it I still believe in your allegiance to your sisters and the more compelling cause of your blood. For that reason alone I will be kind enough as to grant you a fair measure of freedom while you work. No watchers lurking around every corner, perhaps a bit of time reserved for simple…pleasures. This is yours should you give me your word now. When the time comes you will answer my call and bring forth the weapons you have forged with your coven. In return I vow to never vex you again once you comply, nor will I bring harm to your loved ones. It is simply up to you.”

Isla quietly considers her mother, aunt, and coven before allowing her thoughts to settle on Hayden. She truly cares about the kind bar owner, but an oath sworn to her family is written in her blood. The life chosen for her is out of her hands. Closing her eyes she accepts the terms with silence.

“You have made a wise choice, fledgling.”

* * *

 

In the study Freya hovers over a map spread out across her desk. As she observes a trail of blood moving downward Rebekah saunters into the office. “Seems the wretch isn’t a fan of wasting precious time.” Freya peers up at the vampire. “Not particularly,” she confirms, straightening up with a sigh. “I’m just glad that Bridget kept some of her blood because with it…I’ve located the spellbound minions. They’re heading south, further away from New Orleans. As long as they’re still under Veda’s influence we can keep tracking them with this by way of her magic.”

Rebekah watches as Freya begins rolling the map up. “Hm, blood magic. Lovely. I suppose I’ll go keep the car running then. Your dusty old toys are all loaded up.” She smirks as the witch offers a grin and quietly leaves the study. Still gripping the map Freya wanders over to the shelf where the two remaining pregnancy tests lie untouched. She stares at them until strong arms wrap around her waist.

“I took three of them. All negative _therefore_ , you don’t need to worry about readying your spells and building a mighty fortress around me. But feel free to try out one of those just in case.”

Freya rotates around to face Keelin, tilting her head with little amusement. “Very funny. I just wanted to be prepared that’s all. It’s fine.” The brunette fails at keeping the smile from forming on her lips. “Freya,” she drawls lightheartedly, cupping her wife’s cheeks. Freya’s eyebrows rise and fall dramatically. “It’s fine,” she stresses. Chestnut eyes examine her until they’re satisfied.

“Okay. I have to clean up here and you should get going. I _love_ you alright? Even if you’re stressing yourself out way too much. We’re _good_.”

“Yeah well I love you too,” Freya declares before lowering her head to plant a sweet kiss on Keelin’s lips. Pulling back she looks at the wolf with an unreadable expression. “I’ll see you later.” Though skeptic, Keelin nods accordingly and allows her arms to drop as the Viking steps around her to leave.

* * *

 

The sunset paints the sky a fiery orange as countless guests chatter amongst each other. Marcel holds a conversation with an older man at one end of the lavish dining table while Bridget and Patrick sit in the middle. The witch takes a quick sip of her wine and sets the glass down before fiddling with the silver chain around her neck. Next to her, the vampire leans in close.

“All good there,” he asks.

Bridget continues to fiddle with her amulet while scanning the outdoor dining area. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Patrick looks around at the guests with a shrug. “Well I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re completely wrapped up in anticipating the enemy. Scoping out the place every minute, rubbing that moonstone like a magic lamp, and finishing off the wine supply as we speak.”

“It’s good wine and I’m just quietly spectating.”

“Nah, it’s backup booze that RJ scored because Bishop never showed. You need to relax.”

“I’m fine alright? And the _magic lamp_ isn’t for wishing away the enemy.”

“It’s just for us bloodsuckers huh?”

Patrick tilts his head as penetrating eyes fall upon him. “I’ve met enough witches to recognize a charm made to repel my kind.” He takes a sip of his drink as Bridget straightens up in her chair. “Well, if you were me I’m sure you would’ve done the same.” The vampire nods. “Got it. I’ll try not to stand too close,” he quips. The pureblood shakes her head, smirking. “Smart guy.” At the end of the table Marcel rises from his seat and taps on his glass with a fork. The guests all cease their verbalizing to look at the leader putting on a charming smile.

“Representatives, fellow citizens, all my honored guests. Kayla Bordeaux, Miss Attaché herself. You’re a true knockout this fine evening.”

From her table Kayla rests a hand on her pearl necklace and jokingly lifts her chin with esteem. Marcel glances at all the vigilant faces surrounding him. “It is truly my pleasure to have you all gathered here because tonight…is a celebration of unity. Believe me when I tell you that it’s been a long road. Now I won’t pretend to have any hand in all that you’ve done these last few years, but I can bear witness to the centuries it took to get here. _Peace_ among the factions. It’s never been an easy feat,” he attests, shaking his head. “But with my devotion to this city and the determination we all hold there’s nothing we can’t achieve. New Orleans is the place we call home. Many of us for generations while others simply found somewhere to belong in these streets. And no matter what, this city will _always_ stand even when we can’t stand on our own. Even as we fall by the wayside time and time again.”

Marcel raises his glass as everyone listens intently. “Let us lead by example for future generations. Freedom and opportunity is here to stay. Long live New Orleans.” He watches as many glasses fill the air. “Long live New Orleans,” the guests declare in unison. The vampire grins as they all drink to the occasion and gestures his head to the servants, signaling them to open the venue doors.

“And welcome to the party.”

* * *

 

Keelin leads Sharon upstairs to the study as Jordan and Mikaela watch a movie on the courtyard projector. Upon entering the consul makes note of the scientific equipment occupying the desk. “You’ve been busy,” she thinks out loud. The doctor circles the desk and fixes her eyes to the woman. “Yeah. Just cause I’m home doesn’t mean I can’t be occupied with crazy science. I’m snatching this office right from under Freya.” Sharon musters a weak smile that Keelin sees right through. “Don’t worry. She can’t tell an atom under a microscope from what she describes as weird geometric art. Magic is more of her speed, trust me.” The witch nods and walks up to the desk, standing across from the wolf. “So what can _you_ tell me,” she asks.

After holding her gaze for a moment Keelin grabs a small baggy of pills and dangles it between them. “Well, I can tell you that someone got their hands on a Pill Press. These are just more dummies.” Sitting the bag down she picks up a red vile. “Unlike this. I’m still analyzing the chemical compounds and putting the results together but…it looks like an experimental smart drug. I found Bacosides A and B which are triterpenoid saponins isolated from one plant, Bacopa monnieri or better known as the ‘Herb of Grace’.” She sighs. “Apparently ancient scholars used it for cognitive enhancement, things like focus and memorization. I also found super traces of nicotine, racetams, and amphetamines so it’s definitely a stimulant party. My immediate concerns lie in the BTX neurotoxins and cucurbitacin content. Those are pretty toxic to humans.”

“Through all that science talk what I gather is study help gone wrong. This is a case of inadvertent self-poisoning.”

“In so many words, yeah.”

“I hate that I’m even bothering you with this stuff, but I appreciate your work. More importantly I trust your mind.”

Tilting her head Keelin supplies a comforting gaze. “Hey, it’s no problem. I don’t really get to do the fun research stuff at the hospital so I’m more than happy to help. You’re not burdening me okay,” she reassures. “You know, for someone so naturally perceptive you haven’t asked a single question about what you’ve really been studying and why,” Sharon alleges, curious.

“I kinda figured you…didn’t want to give that information up just yet. You’re not very chatty about what’s going on in your life.”

The consul drops her gaze to the floor and Keelin instantly regrets her choice of words. “I just meant that your business is your business.” The former shakes her head while peering up at the wolf. “It’s fine, really. You’re right but maybe if I fill you in on things it could help,” she proposes, earning a cautious nod. “You’ve been researching substances going around the witch community via some secret pipeline. We’re still not sure what it all is but one case has proven just how dangerous it can get. Someone is dead, another one just as likely added to the toll by now. These are kids who had bright futures ahead of them, Keelin. Another boy is lying in a hospital bed at this very second, one of Jordan’s peers.”

Keelin tenses at the disheartening information and Sharon licks her lips. “I haven’t always been present these last few months but I’m going to stop this from destroying my people,” the latter proclaims. She stares at the doctor with guilt and determination in her eyes. In return she receives a look of worry.

* * *

 

Driving in silence Rebekah and Freya whiz by a grimy sign. _COPELAND_. They roam their eyes over the foreclosed businesses and abandoned houses. One woman stands in front of her home surrounded by cluttered appliances while watching them pass through. It appears to be a ghost town until they spot a group of men piling junk into a rusted blue pickup truck. Rebekah decides to solely focus on the road ahead. “How could anyone stand to look at this hell-hole long enough let alone dwell in it?” An expectant sigh fills the space.

“It’s the bayou, sister. Most people living here are either hiding something or trying to get away from something else altogether.”

“And I really do understand the need for privacy but perhaps there should be limits. That _Cut Off_ town we passed through truly was an omen for what lies ahead.”

Freya narrows her eyes at an old bridge coming into view. “Speaking of what lies ahead…” Rebekah stops the car in front of the concrete blockade before shifting it into park with a sigh. “Well then. Any bright ideas?” The witch lulls her head over to her sister. “Um…walking,” she quips, earning an incredulous look. Rebekah turns the key forcefully, cutting the engine with displeasure and Freya slips out of the passenger side. “I know the place is just beyond this bridge. I can feel malicious energy,” the latter claims while heading for the trunk. “We have to get moving.”

Standing by the driver door Rebekah hits a button on her keychain to activate the trunk. She watches as her sibling begins rummaging through the SUV before peering up at the trees. “Oh, how I loathe traipsing about in nature. We get to breathe the toxic air _in_ and listen to the wonderful stylings of demonic birds,” she muses sarcastically. Freya situates a sword on her back and secures a dagger on her hip before pressing a button to shut the trunk. Then she marches over to the vampire who tilts her head. “Well the quicker we get to Veda’s descendant, the quicker we get home.”

“So, exactly when did you become one with your inner warrior?”

“I am a Viking. Let’s just say that certain events rekindled a flame in me.”

Not wasting another second Freya steps around Rebekah and swings a leg over the blockade. The original spins around to observe her determined sister. “Please tell me that you actually know how to wield that sword,” she requests. Giving in she follows suit, quickly catching up to the witch.

* * *

 

In the extravagant venue guests indulge in the unlimited supply of alcohol, mingling, and dancing. Doused in the hazy purple glow of lights Marcel stands by the centerpiece as he spectates the ongoing party. “Looking a bit dry there.” The representative turns to discover Bridget offering a crystal glass to him. “To clarify I mean your drink _and_ your current vibe. So, I figured you could use more bubbly and a dance. What do you think?” Grinning, Marcel accepts the champagne glass and helps himself to a long sip. Once he sets it down on the centerpiece his companion takes the cue to lead him onto the dancefloor. Spinning around Bridget throws an arm over Marcel’s shoulder prompting him to cradle her form while taking hold of her hand.

“Your party is a success. Everyone is enjoying themselves a little _too_ much,” the witch remarks, gazing at the various faces. “And what about you,” the vampire inquires. Wary eyes flit to his own. “I can’t deny that I would be having a ball if this wasn’t some elaborate scheme to kill a person and capture another. In other words I’m _fine_. I know you’re still stuck on the whole genetic frenzy thing but like I said before, it’s being managed. No need to handle me with extra care alright?”

“Alright,” Marcel accepts, chuckling. He tilts his head as Bridget grants him a winsome smile. “I see it now.” His own grin shrinks. “How could I miss it.” The pureblood knits her eyebrows in confusion just as RJ comes up to them. “Hey, Marcel. Your crazy friends just showed up.” The partners both follow the young vampire’s line of vision, quickly catching sight of JD and Veda strolling in together before separating in the crowd. “Alright,” Marcel speaks up, looking to RJ. “You know what to do for now.” His subordinate nods before walking away and he looks to Bridget.

“I’ll get a good reading on her.”

“I’ll go size him up. He never could resist marking territory.”

Swiftly, they break apart. Maneuvering her way through the unruly crowd Bridget spots Veda standing by the fountain. She slowly approaches from behind and saddles up beside the older woman. “Already bored?” Veda turns to her left, regarding the pureblood. “Well that depends. Is the highborn offering something worthy of her patrician tastes,” she inquires.

Shaking her head Bridget releases an incredulous laugh. “Sure. What would you like, Veda? A nice Prosecco,” she offers, gaining an equally sarcastic smirk in response. “Only if your timely departure is promised upon my acceptance. I would be much obliged I assure you,” Veda reclaims, indifferent. The younger woman tilts her head, inspecting her.

“Ouch. I thought we were on better terms than that. What happened?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been purged from recent memory.”

“Look, I understand how you’re feeling about the situation with Freya. There’s a sense of betrayal, a feeling of being cast aside after finally being reunited with her. I get it. But this thing you have going with JD is not the way to handle your disappointment. It won’t win Freya back.”

Veda suddenly glowers. “Forgive me but have I given you the slightest impression that your foolish beliefs are of any value? I have not risen to kiss the feet of the ungrateful, beg for loyalty, nor to take heed of advice from the likes of you, little witch. Redirect your will to meddle in another’s concerns, perhaps your own. After all you are treading rather high waters with your ever prideful companion.” She moves in close, but Bridget stands her ground. “Make no mistake. My restraint has little to do with ignorance. It will require more than a silk-stocking castoff and a ravenous abomination to outwit true finesse.” She blows past Bridget fiercely.

Meanwhile, Marcel takes up the space by a marble statue as JD inspects the area. “Still into bougie architecture I see,” the former states. The latter smirks, continuing his work. “I just couldn’t resist. And you knew that didn’t you? I suppose I should be flattered by the thought and effort,” he quips.

“This bad blood between you and me, it ends tonight brother.”

JD shakes his head. “We were never brothers Marcel, but I agree. Something’s got to give. You’ve been walking this earth for far too long, stomping your big bumbling feet all over the place. Soon it will finally be time to face your crimes and misgivings,” Marcel frowns and turns to gaze at him. “I gave you a gift, the potential to be invincible alongside me. I gave you an eternity of _life_ ,” he affirms. His sireling finally turns to pierce his eyes.

“Nah, Marcel. You only gave me a different type of death. A prolonged one, an agonizing curse. My only fault was accepting the offer in my last moments of weakness because I no longer had my humanity then. But you, well you just wanted to make me in your image, another little soldier to tag along on your crusades. You knew I was different though, one not so easily fooled by your gifts. So you punished me for my alternative line of thinking. Maybe it’s time I return the favor.”

After giving Marcel a fiery once-over JD walks away.

* * *

 

“I gather this is the place.”

Freya and Rebekah stand at the base of concrete steps while gazing at the mysterious brown house. The lawn is patchy in places while overgrown in others and two large trees obstruct the view of the second-story window. Some ivy covers the front subtly swinging in the breeze. “Couldn’t you tell by the warm, inviting atmosphere,” the witch retorts. As the pair begins climbing the set of stairs the whispering wind blows out two lanterns and the cracked door opens wider. Both of them come to a halt on the porch as their golden tresses dance wildly.

“Well that was quite ominous.”

Freya looks over at Rebekah seriously. “Apparently we’re stepping on hallowed ground. Ready?” The original nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies, earning a short nod. The oldest sibling leads the way inside where they’re immediately greeted with several dead bodies on the floor. Freya widens her eyes at the brutal discovery but mentally prepares herself as she steps over them.

“A bloody massacre,” Rebekah comments, carefully following behind. They slowly walk down the wood-paneled hall, meeting more mangled bodies as they go. In a room to her left Freya notices bloodied minors and looks away from the gruesome image, briefly closing her eyes while exhaling. Eventually the trek ends at a large room filled with old pews. Darkened green eyes quickly recognize two of Veda’s henchmen lying in the aisle. At the alter the other two minions are busy draining two adults as a brown-haired girl mutters to herself near the myriad of candles.

“Freya. That must be the descendant.”

Freya stares at the girl, noting the bloody cut on her cheek before walking forward. “Your fun is over, boys. You won’t be taking her anywhere,” she calls. The vampires drop the limp bodies in their hold and turn to her. “Whatever Veda wants, she gets.” Rebekah settles next to Freya. “And how ambitiously entitled of her. However, my dear sister here is right. The girl does not belong to the conniving bitch whom you call master in your pathetic delusion.” The shorter minion growls and dashes toward the descendant but the original beats him to it by ripping out his heart. After breaking off a piece of wood from the podium she jams it into the second minion’s chest. The descendant opens her eyes and scrambles to her feet, backing away as Rebekah turns to gaze at her.

“You don’t have to be frightened, love. We are only here to protect you from those bad men.”

The girl shakes her head frantically. “They were demons, but my prayers kept me safe. They weren’t nearly as bad as the monsters I know.” Rebekah frowns in confusion just as the sound of heavy footsteps draw near. Freya spins around to witness a sizable group of men and women entering the chapel with individual weapons. “Who are you,” she questions. The raven-haired woman in front lifts her chin. “The girl’s keepers,” she declares, stone-faced. Slowly, the Viking begins drawing the sword from her back.

* * *

 

Bridget leans against the centerpiece while observing an elegant blonde drinking alone at her table. As she mentally traces over the stranger’s features she’s reminded of the Mikaelson currently plaguing her thoughts. With a sigh she brings her own glass to her lips, downing the alcohol in an instant. “Hey,” Marcel greets, appearing beside her. “Everything okay?”

The witch shifts her weight and sets her glass down on the centerpiece. “Yeah. What’s up,” she asks. “It’s time. She’s been eyeing you for the better part of the night,” the representative informs. Vigilant eyes lock onto Veda standing next to JD. “Wish me luck,” Bridget quips as she heads for the stairs. Marcel watches her leave and looks at Veda whispering in JD’s ear before departing.

He begins marching over to his target until he’s locked into place as the loud music abruptly shuts off. JD extends his arms to the disorderly people. “Ladies and gentlemen, beasts and demons. It’s been a grand occasion, but I would personally like to welcome you to the real spectacle. Tonight, I will be showcasing Marcel Gerard’s poor leadership all the while ending his heavenly dream for good. In case you were wondering, you all will be a very important part of that,” he announces. Kayla, Paige, and Stuart fix their dazed eyes to Marcel.

 

Upstairs, Veda sways confidently as she enters the parlor. “For your own sake I do hope this isn’t a feeble attempt at entrapment.” Bridget whirls around with a sardonic smile before shaking her head. “No way. I’m not the privileged little airhead you want me to be.” Veda lifts her chin, smirking. “I suppose not. What insight have you reserved for me?” Shrugging, Bridget saunters over to plant herself right in front of the Algerian witch. “Just the cold hard truth, babe.”

“And what, pray tell, is this truth you’re so _strategically_ withholding?”

“Well, I’ve never been the one to hide how I feel about you being here. From the very beginning I didn’t trust anything about you, not even in the form of Maya’s heartfelt visions. You do remember Maya don’t you? The innocent girl you mentally tortured and put through hell for _years_?”

“If there is hidden meaning in this self-indulgent discourse then do not bask in idleness. The bounded night is upon us.”

Bridget lifts her chin. “I told Freya to put Keelin first,” she discloses. Veda stiffens at the truth. “I was the one that gave her another option. One where she could have the real love and support of her family, not the burden of a selfish woman whose true love is power.”

“All I hear is desperation in your righteousness and more of the same in such foolish lies.”

“To think I admired your strength and persistence as a woman that built herself up from nothing. The truth is your ego thrived on a firstborn Mikaelson witch needing you. Freya was just an object to be used and you wanted the same for her daughter, hell for your own bloodline. Nobody needs you and you know it. That’s your real weakness. You need everyone else to function.”

The fireplace ignites with a raging flame. “Your lips can only spew so much unfounded rhetoric before they turn against you, little witch. Shall we explore the inescapable truth that lies within,” Veda poses, grabbing onto Bridget’s head. Flashes of images are exchanged between them until the pureblood rips herself away. Her enemy stumbles back, grinning devilishly as her cloudy eyes fade into their usual deep brown. “So many stories within you.” Bridget stands defensively, swallowing hard. “We are not so different, you and I. Is that not why you wish to imprison me?”

Veda takes a step closer. “Such a selfless figure indeed,” she states, sarcastic. “Placing your own reverence above family, friends…lovers.” Bridget gapes at her. “Perhaps you should have considered her hopeless desire for sanctuary.” Veda waves a hand to shut the door behind her and tosses Bridget back with telekinesis. “Tell me. Did you foresee your end tonight?”

 

Downstairs in the ballroom the guests spectate the intense scene. “What are you playing at here,” Marcel questions. “No games, I assure you. Take your pick of the damned and you will see,” JD presents, outstretching a hand to Kayla. “The witches.” He points to Paige. “Or the werewolves? Who will start us off tonight, Marcel?” He observes his sire wincing as he fights the invisible hold on him unsuccessfully. “Don’t bother with that valiant spirit of yours. Ancient magic is now in place and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Boundary spell. I should’ve known you’d stick to basics.”

“Actually, it’s just a little more complicated than that. The boundary spells are only for your cooperation. The real fun I’ve brought to the party has a certain…” JD rocks his head, pretending to ponder his words for a second. “ _Element_ of surprise. But here I’ll give you a hint since I like you so much. Check the back of each leader’s neck.” Everyone watches as Kayla, Paige, and Stuart all slowly feel for something on their skin. “Currently, you should be discovering an ancient sigil branded into your flesh. My beautiful partner marked each of you in passing during the festivities and sealed your fates only moments ago. Think of this as your consequence for entrusting the cancer that is Marcel Gerard with your precious city. In truth he only wants it all for himself anyway. Don’t you, old _friend_?” Paige and her loyal wolves move forward but are instantly stopped by the barrier. “What the hell is this, Marcel?”

“Let them go. This is between you and me remember? All of this is for show, it won’t mean anything when it’s said and done.”

“Their freedom is up to you. Each faction within this ballroom is bound by a perfectly positioned object, just as you are.” JD retrieves a gold miniature crown from his suit jacket and holds it in his palm. “Break them and your guests are freed. Just say the word and I can tell you exactly where they are. Oh, but of course be weary. Destroying those little tin soldiers means ending your daywalking army in the process. Representational magic I’m afraid.” Marcel scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head. “So, what will it be mighty king? Your glorious army or your invaluable reputation?”

* * *

 

Just inches from her face blood spills out of her opponent’s mouth. Cringing Freya uses her forearm to push against the woman’s collarbone, thrusting her stiff body off the sword. As the corpse drops she wipes at her forehead while her sister twirls around, inspecting the area piled with other bodies. “Safe to say those zealots love hurling curses of damnation and fighting with almost equal fervor,” Rebekah quips. “It would _definitely_ appear that way,” Freya sighs out. “The sword was for Veda’s super minions since it’s enchanted with Dahlia’s black magic. But I guess she wasn’t expecting much opposition to her plan.”

“Well regardless it came in handy and not a scratch on us. I call it a win.”

Turning to her sibling Freya reaches up to gently examine her forehead. “Almost,” she drawls. Frowning, Rebekah mimics the witch’s actions and feels the cut on her skin. “Have I been nicked by the brainwashed bunch? I must be slipping up.” With a small smile Freya pulls back. Suddenly she remembers the mission and scans the room as her expression becomes grim.

“Where’s the descendant?”

Rebekah looks around the chapel, now alert. “Bloody hell,” she remarks with disdain. Freya swiftly makes her way down the aisle and out of the room. She hastens down the hallway before stepping out into darkness with a deep exhale. Out in the distance there’s a single light waving back and forth as it travels further away. Thinking quick she grabs one of the lanterns, igniting it with her magic before taking off in the direction of her target. She enters the woods where the pounding of her feet on the ground and the beating of her heart in her chest are the only sounds.

 _Our world comes crashing down just a little more each time you seem to breathe_.

 _I mean come on, we are the wicked witch after all_.

 _Maybe the fight has finally left you or maybe you've just gone soft_.

Freya shakes the mental taunts away until the vivid image of Imani, wounded in her arms, collides with her. She stumbles to her knees and hears the distant call of her name as her tunnel vision expands. Within seconds she feels a strong arm curling around her and helping her to her feet. “Freya. Are you alright?” The witch breathes out, swallowing her anxiety while blinking a few times.

“I’m fine,” she answers, trudging onward. Rebekah casts some doubt but eventually follows her lead. They come across a clearing lit by fire. There, a hooded figure is kneeling before a grave marked by a wooden cross. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Freya calls out. She’s not sure if the phrase is more for her own assurance but she means the words wholeheartedly.

The figure turns around and lowers their hood, revealing a tear-streaked face. “But what if I hurt you? Everyone,” she questions. “I’m cursed.” Freya tilts her head with a soft gaze. “You’re new to this and you’ve never been around someone with magic but you’re not alone. I come from a long line of powerful witches and I can help you.” The girl looks to the flames between them.

“My name is Freya. What’s yours?”

“Alana,” the girl reveals, gazing at her timidly.

“Alana,” Freya reiterates, nodding. “When I was around your age I had trouble controlling my magic too. Not to diminish what you’re going through right now, but I’m actually cursed. As is my daughter and niece. Even my aunt was born with an overwhelming amount of power before us. I understand how scary it can be, believe me.” She pauses as the descendant hangs onto every word. “I have a feeling that there are so many reasons for you not to trust in people, but I swear to you, I only want to help. I can get you somewhere safe while we figure this out together. Please just allow me to do that.” Alana holds her gaze for a moment before nodding. Freya mirrors her carefully. “Suctus incendia.” She watches as the girl ogles the extinguished mess in amazement and bites her lip, summoning a hopeful smile.

* * *

 

“Tick tock.”

Marcel racks his brain for a proper solution while gazing at each faction. Within her boundary Kayla tilts her head at him. “Marcel.” The calm but pleading voice draws dark eyes to her. They hold their intense eye contact until Stuart begins coughing. “Time’s up,” JD trumpets excitedly. “And so it begins, the beginning of the end.” The human leader clutches his throat as he struggles to breath in his hacking fit.

“So what, you need a witch to fight your battles for you now? Stop being a coward and fight me man to man!”

JD tilts his head, apathetic. “And here I thought you’d respect the strategy, the technique. All the best battles are fought with this.” He taps his temple with two fingers and grins. Kayla hunches over slightly, overwhelmed as she presses her hands to her stomach. “Ever wondered what would happen if the air we breathe suddenly turned on us, became toxic? Or if the vitality we take for granted just fizzled out of our pores like nothing?” Veins erupt down Marcel’s cheeks as his irises glow a bright red. “Surely we’d just return to dust.” Baring his double fangs Marcel pounces.

 

A tray of polished glasses and flower vases tumbles to the floor as Bridget crashes into the side table. Veda advances on the pureblood but quickly grabs her head in agony as she succumbs to pain infliction. She’s brought to her knees by a gesture of her opponent’s hand and watches as a hidden dagger is unsheathed before her eyes.

“I just knew your temper would get the best of you,” Bridget pants out. She raises the weapon, but Veda waves a hand, sending her flying into another wall. The older woman climbs to her feet and goes to collect the dagger now lying on the floor. “Such potential wasted on a paltry witch afraid of her own shadow. Had fear not compromised your innate power perhaps you could have truly challenged me to a fare-thee-well. Instead you choose to poison your mind and body. How unfortunate.” Bridget rises once again.

“Sorry if I can’t relate to embracing the crazy,” she quips, wincing.

“Well, I’m quite disenchanted with your insolence so forgive me for the urgency.”

As Veda struts over to Bridget she cripples her with magic. Drawing the dagger back she aims to plunge it into the younger woman’s heart. At the last second Bridget catches the weapon by clutching Veda’s hand on the grip. “Conripio praecantatio, formo potentia,” she recites, wincing. Using her other hand she indirectly grips the dagger tighter, revealing the glowing blue ring on her finger in the process. Veda widens her eyes as energy flushes from her body. “What have you done?” She backtracks in horror, eyes darting between her trembling hands and the pureblood.

“The same thing you tried to do to Mikaela and probably to that descendant you’re after.” While closing in on her enemy Bridget raises her hand to show off the slowly dimming ring. “By the way, you can be sure that Freya and Rebekah got to her in time. It’s over, Veda.” Heaving erratically Veda strikes her in the face before fleeing. Bridget covers her eye for a moment before noticing the blood smeared across her fingers. Without another thought she races after the volatile witch.

 

In the ballroom Marcel hammers at the boundary around him, eventually getting pummeled by the forcefield. Kayla and Stuart are each surrounded by their distraught people as they lie on the floor. The Attaché is delirious and sweating profusely while the faction leader is unconscious. Paige is still standing tall with her wolves as she inspects the decaying flesh of her forearm. Marcel gazes at them helplessly as their fates unfold. Not willing to accept it he darts into the barrier once again.

JD shakes his head. “You’re a beast Marcel, not a god. Save your strength cause you’re gonna need it for what I have in store for you.” Standing in front of the crowd Patrick notices Bridget sprinting down the hall on a mission. “Bridget!” Just as he calls out to her Marcel rams into the barrier causing it to collapse. The upgraded vampire roughly holds his enemy by the collar.

“I won’t make the same mistake again. You’re done.”

Bridget hurries over to them. “Veda got away,” she calls. Marcel throws her a look. “Worry about that later. Right now I need you to free everyone without killing my guys,” he requests briskly. His partner furrows her eyebrows. “What,” she asks in disbelief. “They placed boundary spells on the factions, tying them to objects. Thing is, destroying those objects means giving my vampires a death sentence. You need to unbind them before the leaders die. Veda cursed them with sigils.” Bridget lifts her hand, displaying the ancient ring on her finger.

“No need. I have her magic contained in this ring since she left me no choice. I can just overload the spells with our combined power.” After Marcel signals his understanding with a nod she circles around him and JD to reach the center of the factions. Closing her eyes she breathes out steadily. “Augere robur, augere potentia.” A tremendous wave of energy sweeps through the ballroom and encumbers the boundary spells. Bridget opens her eyes and shoots a glance to Marcel. “I’ll help reverse the curses,” she insists. “Thank you,” the leader breathes. He receives a short nod from the pureblood before she heads over to the witches. His restless eyes then settle on JD.

* * *

 

Keelin stands in the courtyard, hugging herself as she patiently awaits the arrival of her wife. As if on cue Freya strolls into their home with Alana in tow. At the sight of them the werewolf drops her arms and strides over. “Oh my god.” She grabs onto the Viking’s face to examine her. “You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s not mine,” Freya sighs out. Keelin tilts her head, concerned. “Freya.” The blonde wearily shakes her head before carefully pulling the doctor’s hands from her face. Then she turns to the girl beside her. “This is Alana.” With a soft smile Keelin fixes her gaze to the stranger. “There’s a room all set up for you, sweetie. If it’s okay with you I can take care of that nasty cut before you go to bed,” she offers. Alana gives her a small smile of her own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower if everything here is okay. I’ll check on the girls afterwards,” Freya announces, gazing at Keelin.

“Everything’s fine. See you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Freya leans in to place a soft kiss on her wife’s lips. The brunette cradles her cheeks, holding onto the moment for as long as she possibly can. No mission would ever fail to make her anxious when it comes to her family. The couple draws back to rest their foreheads together. However, Freya cuts the warm embrace short and marches towards the stairs leaving Keelin to open her eyes with uncertainty.

* * *

 

A plethora of candles illuminate the living space as Bridget sets her heels down beside the sofa. Rebekah materializes from the kitchen presenting a bottle of wine. “I figured you could use a bit of unwinding after such a ghastly party. And I admit my day was quite stressful too. Therefore, I only saw it right that we salvage it with one lovely Bordeaux. Particularly a 2002 worth compelling into my possession,” she quips. Bridget tilts her head, exhausted. “I’m not really in the mood for any more drinks tonight. Getting out of this drafty get-up sounds like a plan though.”

With a sigh Rebekah lowers the wine bottle. “You’re still angry with me,” she surmises. Exhaling, Bridget rubs at the bandage near her eyebrow. “I’m not angry with you,” she reclaims, coming closer to stand in front of the blonde. “It’s been a very long day and a lot has happened. Our disagreement was far from the first between us so it’s not suddenly the end of the world okay?”

“We had a terrible fight, Bridget. One in which you questioned my choice to be with you so please, don’t diminish what happened today.”

The witch stares at the vampire but doesn’t utter a word. “I understand that I can be pushy, possessive. I was stubborn and demanding but it’s only because I care so deeply about you. The last thing I would ever want is more misfortune between us and everything about you worries me because…you’re so willing to risk it all for whomever needs your help. It may sound utterly selfish but…I’d do everything in my power to keep you from making that sacrifice. Even if it means watching the city burn to ash. For you death is something you can’t take back and I’m far too invested to accept that possibility.”

Bridget scrutinizes Rebekah for a moment, quietly taking in her fierce honesty. She retrieves the bottle from the original’s hand and sets it down on the coffee table before cupping her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was so dismissive about your feelings today. It’s just that I never sit on doing what’s right because _this_ is who I am. So yeah I was mad about you going behind my back, but I understand why you did it. I guess that makes me a hypocrite because I’d find a way to stop you too if there was a chance we’d lose this. I’m still getting used to the idea of not being in this alone.”

Rebekah tilts her head with understanding. “I’m sorry too. Of course my downfall is being the stubborn Mikaelson obsessed with preserving one good thing in her disastrous life. I’m not so sure I even deserve this now that I have it,” she admits. Bridget gives her a shamefaced look. “Are we really this bad at just enjoying a normal courtship?” She incites a light chuckle in response.

“Maybe so but perhaps we can navigate this better as a team.”

“I think we make a great team.”

They both grin widely at one another before slowly meeting in a delicate kiss. Rebekah trails her hands up Bridget’s exposed back and unzips her revealing dress, allowing it to fall at her feet. “Getting you out of such a troublesome dress? Task completed.” Smirking, the witch steps out of the garment around her ankles and reattaches their lips eagerly.

* * *

 

At the docks a group of vampires gather for the spectacle. “This is it. Almost a century of history ready to be destroyed.” JD raises his rope-bound hands. “I’m not too comfortable in these vervain-drenched restraints. So, if this is the moment where you stand tall before your _people_ to tell me that it didn’t have to be this way then save your breath.”

Marcel examines him quietly. “Alright then. Any last words,” he asks, neutral. JD lowers his hands with a growing smirk. “None that I can recall. All’s been said and done hasn’t it? You have your divine victory and I will die here tonight still carrying the hate of a hundred years,” he declares, striking a chord. His sire tilts his head with a stern gaze.

“Wanna know something crazy? I buried you in the river because despite everything I couldn’t kill you. I didn’t want to take a life that I created with _my_ blood. And for decades after that I did the same thing to any vampire bold enough to break my rules. I buried them all because of you.” JD silently lifts his chin. “What happened back then made me realize something. Our similarities, differences, whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I chose my people over _everything_. I inspire them, provide for them, and build them up into the warriors I know they can be. I show _mercy_ when they stray and cross that line. I would’ve never betrayed you the way you did me all those years ago.”

Marcel reaches into his suit jacket to pull out his dagger and looks JD in the eyes. “I just wanted you to know that.” He grips the traitor’s shoulder while thrusting the dagger into his heart. “Feels like déjà vu,” JD gasps, leaning into him. His body is slowly brought to the concrete ground. “Don’t fight it. My venom is circulating your body, right from your heart. Only a matter of time now with the magic involved,” Marcel informs. He observes the vampire coughing with a bitter smile. “Marcel Gerard, you son of a bitch. I’m gonna get…” The words dissipate in the breeze as life drains from JD, leaving him a grey corpse.

“Come on, king. It’s done,” Patrick alerts, gripping his leader’s shoulder. Marcel climbs to his feet and looks over to RJ as the other vampires disperse. “Burn him,” he orders coldly before lumbering away. The two vampires watch him go before looking at each other. “I can help out here,” Patrick offers. “Thanks but I got it. I’m used to cleaning up the messes remember,” RJ retorts.

“Still nothing from Bishop?”

“I told you how he is on days like today. When we were under Elliott’s command he would hide away during the anniversaries. All that stuff with his family really screwed him up even if he doesn’t show it. Just give him a day or two,” RJ advises, pouring whiskey onto JD’s body. “In the meantime I’m all good here. Maybe you should check on the boss.” Patrick nods in agreement.

* * *

 

At Lafayette Cemetery, Bishop is chained to a wall as Veda paces the tomb anxiously. Without warning the witch hurls a thick book at the wall. “I don’t know what the plan was with all the weird voodoo you did on me earlier but obviously it’s not working out. You’re done when my friends find me,” the vampire speaks up. His captor whips around and glares at him.

“Do not speak you worthless heap of rotting flesh. Your fate shall reveal itself soon enough.”

Bishop frowns while blowing out a breath. Just seconds later RJ ambles into the tomb carrying a black body bag. “Robin,” Veda greets, exhaling. Her prisoner looks at the new arrival with confusion. “Why is he still awake,” RJ questions as the witch comes over to him. “How long ago was James slain?” Dark eyes awkwardly flit from Veda to Bishop. “Uh, not long.” Veda grabs RJ’s chin to settle his gaze on her. “Tell me, Robin.” The nervous vampire tilts his head. “Maybe thirty minutes. I had to keep suspicions low before I brought him here.”

“Then there’s still time. A spell such as this one could manifest within the next hour.”

“What the hell are you doing with them, RJ? Marcel will bury your ass if I don’t first!”

Veda turns to him with annoyance. “It’s okay,” RJ intervenes. He gently rests the body bag on the stone platform before wandering over to Bishop. “Huh? What are you doing,” the prisoner yells. He tugs on his spelled chains as his friend shakes his head. “I’m sorry, brother. It just had to be this way.” Bishop stares at him in anguish as he begins to desiccate.


	7. Persona Non Grata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya and Keelin face Kristin while helping Alana settle into her new life; Bridget and Rebekah spend the day with Mikaela; Veda attempts to reclaim her magic; Marcel and Patrick search for Bishop; Sharon and Kayla make amends in the wake of Christian's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So, this chapter is straightforward tying up certain things and setting up others for the following act. The next chapters will revolve around Josh's wedding weekend where a lot of revelations come out for the characters. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) LYRA - Emerald: FLASHBACK of Freya and Veda in Norway/Freya and Keelin talk in the shower.
> 
> 2) RYD - Work It Out: FLASHBACK of Sharon and Lo's promise/Sharon wakes up at Alex's place.
> 
> 3) Axel Flóvent - Forest Fires: Sharon and Kayla talk at Saint Louis Cemetery No. 2; Freya and Keelin bring Alana to the Imani Singleton Center.
> 
> 4) Yumi Zouma - Powder Blue/Cascine Park: Mikaela, Bridget, and Rebekah eat at an ice cream parlor.
> 
> 5) Klergy - Dangerous Game: Kristin, Freya, and Keelin have an argument; Veda conducts a ritual.
> 
> 6) Elenowen - Hiding Place: Kayla shows Sharon a special place.
> 
> 7) George Ogilvie - Foreign Hands: Bridget tells Rebekah about her psychic abilities.
> 
> 8) Graffiti Ghosts - I'm Coming For You: The golem vs Marcel's vampires.
> 
> 9) Olivia Grace - Safe: JD comforts Veda; Bridget and Freya talk in the study; Hayden and Isla talk.
> 
> 10) Citizens - Strength And Beauty: Marcel and his vampires drink at Rousseau's; Freya and Keelin talk in bed.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

**_Kingdom of Norway, 10 th Century._ **

**_Near a hovel in the woods Freya holds her hands out over a crackling fire. “Auka eldinn ek,” she chants, eyes closed. Veda appears from behind a tree to observe the scene. The fire continues to build before shooting upwards in the air. Thoroughly impressed, the brunette gapes at the magical blaze as Freya collapses unexpectedly. “Suctus incendia,” she yells while hastening over._ **

**_The flames are quelled before they can cause significant damage and Veda falls to her knees, pulling the young witch into her arms. “Little bird.” Blinking a few times Freya peers up at her companion. “Veda…is it truly you before me now,” she inquires, delirious. Veda presents an uneasy grin while petting dirty blonde locks. “Yes, it is I. Why in all the heavens are you out in the cold chanting spells,” she questions._ **

**_“For two nights I have only been troubled with pleasing my aunt. She will think me weak if I am to fall by the third.”_ **

**_“And have you not considered good health in your endeavors?”_ **

**_Freya gulps with teary eyes. “I fear not the bitter cold or the restless nights spent alone. The hunger and frustration, my curse…none of it will ever compare to the wrath of Dahlia,” she proclaims as deep brown eyes study her. “My dear Freya,” Veda murmurs, stroking her cheek. “Shame me for my own misdeeds.” Hazy green eyes watch her in bemusement as she digs her fingers into the dirt. “Propero incrementum.” She pulls an apple from the ground and brings it into Freya’s cold hand, holding it there as she sits the girl up in her arms._ **

**_“I can no longer bear the truth of your plight, little bird. As a mere bystander I am conflicted at the very thought. I was not made to protect you from the wickedness of your own blood though in this moment…I wish for nothing more as you lie in my arms,” Veda confesses. “And someway I must have known you would alter my course the moment I laid eyes on you.”_ **

**_She lifts the apple to Freya’s lips. “Here, restore your energy.” The frail Viking takes a small bite out of the ripe fruit and savors it before racing to devour the rest whole. “Slowly,” Veda directs. Her companion consumes another piece before burrowing into the warmth she provides. “I pray that this is not all there is. You were destined for far more than this dark path of suffering, little bird.”_ **

A solemn Freya stands in the shower, palm against the wall as she bows her head under the falling water. A tap on the foggy door pushes her out of the trance. “Freya,” a voice calls from the other side. “Yeah,” the Viking answers, slowly lifting her head. “Is everything okay? It’s four in the morning.” Freya runs a hand down her dripping face. Even with the waterflow drowning her out she can easily sense the tension in her wife’s voice. “Yeah. You should go back to sleep. I’ll be out in a second.” Near silence prompts her to look at the blurred figure behind the glass.

“Keelin?”

“I’m coming in.”

Freya sighs as the shower door opens, allowing the steam to tumble out. She feels another body pressing against her and a hand grasping her bicep as a soft kiss lingers on her back. Right after damp curls are stuck to her shoulder blades. “You’ve been hard to read for the past two nights, Freya. Now you’re slipping out of bed at ungodly hours. Talk to me,” Keelin implores.

“There’s nothing to talk about. The woman I looked at as a mother tried to kidnap an innocent girl and most likely would’ve killed my friend without a second thought. You were right about her all along.”

“I didn’t _want_ to be right. I know how much you wanted a relationship with her, how much you care. Your heart is bigger than most people realize, and I hate that you’re going through this.”

“Yeah, well I’m used to the dark revelations and constant disappointment. It’s inevitable as a Mikaelson.”

Keelin shakes her head. “You can’t think like that okay? This isn’t on you,” she asserts. Freya combs her fingers through soppy blonde tresses prompting the wolf to leave the support of her back. “It kinda is Keelin,” she counters, spinning around slowly. “And I’m gonna fix it.” Tilting her head Keelin gives her wife an apprehensive look.

* * *

 

**_While lying in a massive bed Sharon gazes at the shadows dancing across the wall. With a sigh she turns onto her back and closes her eyes to ignore the raging thoughts. An eternity seems to pass before footsteps clatter against the hardwood floor and the lights cut on. “Trouble sleeping?” At the sound of the mild voice Sharon opens her eyes and sits up in the silk covers. There by the door stands Lo in a beautiful red gown._ **

**_“Your bed is more comfy. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”_ **

**_Lo regards Sharon before sauntering over to sit at her bedside. The witch scoots up and crosses her legs while turning to face her friend. “Please don’t okay.” The vampire tilts her head with a keen look. “If you needed me you could’ve just called. Nothing is more important than you. You know that,” she affirms, serious._ **

**_“You were on your hot date with some handsome benefactor. Or was it entertaining the dense but gorgeous swimsuit model tonight?” Sharon shakes her head at the eyes scrutinizing her. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. I know how much business means to you along with your freedom outside of it. You can’t babysit me forever. I’m an adult now, Lo.”_ **

**_“I hardly see why that would suddenly stop me from caring,” Lo remarks, caressing her cheek. Well-worn eyes pierce her own. “My mother once told me how she dreamed of the day I would get to college and experience everything she did. Discovering myself, meeting new faces. Maybe even…falling in love.” Lo lifts her chin, listening intently as Sharon shakes her head with a humorless laugh. “But now that I’m here, two years in, where is she? Oh yeah, robbing me blind to fund her expensive drug habit.”_ **

**_“I’m sorry. You’ll never fully understand how sorry I am about this, but you have me. You have stability, loyalty, protection, and anything else you could ever want here with me. Just move in for good this time. Make this the home of your dreams, Sharry.”_ **

**_Sharon considers the pitch for a moment, knowing full well she could never truly accept it. “I can’t,” she sighs out. “You know I can’t just abandon her like a stranger. No matter how much she screws up she’s still my mother.” Lo drops her hand from the witch’s cheek, sighing in frustration. “You don’t owe her anything, Sharon. When will you learn? She is the source of all your pain and disappointment, like my own mother was for me. Love can’t ever come from something so ugly,” she concludes._ **

**_“Your mother was sick and needed help. That didn’t mean her love for you wasn’t real.”_ **

**_Tensing, Lo sinks into a grimace. “She tried to drown me! I was an innocent child only ever asking for her affection, yet she wanted me dead! Is that some beautiful declaration of real love to you,” she questions fiercely. Sharon looks on regretfully as the vampire flits her eyes down between them. “I’m sorry,” the latter breathes. Scooting in closer the former grasps her hand while dipping her head._ **

**_“I’m sorry. Okay? I just can’t leave my mother, not like this. I’m all she has, Lo. But you’re all I have, and I can’t lose you either. I need you to understand the position I’m in right now.”_ **

**_Lo reluctantly peers up at Sharon. “Okay. I understand how loyal you are to her despite your better judgement. I can only ask one thing of you though,” she requests. “Anything,” the witch replies, not missing a beat. The vampire waits, her gaze intensifying as she collects her emotions. “I, Lorraine Elizabeth Easley, promise to always stand by you through it all. No trial or tribulation will ever be great enough to keep us apart. I swear this to you and I need the same in return,” she declares, somewhat diffident. Sharon examines her soft features before reaching up to sweep wavy locks behind her shoulder. “I, Sharon Marie Vance, promise to always stand by your side. Through it all, Lo.” She accepts a melancholy smile and simple nod from Lo before wrapping her up in her arms._ **

Sharon cracks her eyes open instantly meeting the sunlight pouring into large warehouse windows. Breathing out she lulls her head over to the man facing her. She silently rejoices at the fact that he’s still asleep and turns over, feeling for the phone underneath her pillow. Once it’s in her grip she pulls it out and automatically checks her notifications realizing it’s already 9:30 AM.

She peels the cover back and rises from the bed causing Alex to stir with a low whine. By the time he finally opens his eyes he finds Sharon buttoning her jeans. He immediately sits up in bed. “Hey, no ‘Good Morning’ before you slip on out the door?” The consul tugs a simple black top over her head. “I have to go now, or I’ll be late to a funeral. That’s very disrespectful in my book.” She plops down on the edge of the bed to slip into her boots.

“Yeah, I know but isn’t that at 11:30? You still have time.”

“Actually I don’t. I wanted to make a few stops this morning before getting ready.”

Alex moves over to kiss Sharon’s shoulder, resting his chin there. “Slow down, boss lady. You have _time_ to let me make you something,” he insists lightheartedly. His lover shifts with a look of pure disbelief. “You know that we don’t do breakfast,” she states as a reminder. A wide grin is flashed her way. “Then maybe…we can finally take the leap. What do you say, Sharon Vance? Be my breakfast buddy?”

Sharon tries to hide the smile playing at her lips. “I have to go, Alex.” She cups his cheeks and leans in to kiss him softly before pulling back. “I’ll call you when I can.” Without sparing another second she stands up and marches over to the table. After grabbing her purse she strides for the door but abruptly stops to spin around. “Last night was nice.” Alex eases back onto his elbows, visibly pleased. “Yeah. It was,” he retorts. Sharon raises her eyebrows humorously. “You should really look into a culinary career,” she remarks, earning a short chuckle from the artist.

“Pretending that you only stayed for the food huh?”

“I don’t need to pretend,” Sharon reclaims, winking before she makes her exit.

* * *

 

In the dining room the Mikaelson family delights in a bountiful breakfast. Freya is picking at the blueberries on her plate when she feels a pair of eyes on her. Peering up her suspicions are confirmed by Mikaela grinning at her. She mirrors the little hybrid, albeit wavering, and watches as she takes a bite of her french toast. While having a sip of her coffee Keelin notices the exchange and clears her throat as she sits her mug down.

“So, Alana. We want you to know that if there’s anything you ever need we’re here. Just because you’ll be staying at the center it doesn’t mean you’re fending for yourself okay?”

“Thank you, Dr. Mikaelson. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, really.”

“Don’t mention it. We just want you to be safe and happy. You’ve been through so much, I can’t even imagine.”

Alana dips her head while poking at her scrambled eggs. “Mommy can Alana take my Aladdin book,” Mikaela asks excitedly. “She really likes it!” Keelin looks at her with amusement. “What? You of all people giving away your books? Are you sure about that, Roo Roo?” Her daughter nods confidently. “She doesn’t have any. She’ll need them for when she gets bored.”

Alana quickly shakes her head before settling her eyes on the little girl. “I couldn’t but thank you Mikaela.” Keelin tilts her head with interest. “We can always stop by a bookstore and pick something out,” she offers. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Back at the home all books had to be approved by the overseers. I mostly read Psalms, the dictionary, things about animals. Anything containing magic was strictly forbidden meaning no fairytales.” Keelin gives Alana a sympathetic look as Freya finally tunes into the conversation. This was news to them considering the girl had slept for most of the previous day. They had only managed to learn about her status as an orphan and her life in the system.

“Well, we’ll just have to figure that out. Animals are always a good start,” Keelin chimes. Alana offers a gracious smile as Freya quietly simmers in her thoughts.

* * *

 

At Lafayette Cemetery, JD leans against the stone platform supporting Bishop’s body bag. Articles of clothing are piled on top of the corpse. “Trading in Armani for rags,” he mutters while fiddling with his cufflinks. Veda ambulates the tomb, clutching her talisman. “I am now an inferior, desolate fool for in a maddening turn of events I have been bested. If Freya and her _virtuous_ family see it just, I will face total annihilation by sundown.” Her lover peers over at her.

“Never. You’re just shaken, rightfully so. If they were after you they would’ve come by now,” he reassures. Veda stops pacing and gazes at nothing in particular. “Without my magic they have no need to come for me. It is my lifeline,” she reclaims. “And it has been a very long time since I’ve felt so useless, James. I vowed never to return to that forsaken life. My greatest ill it was.”

Pushing off the stone platform JD stalks up behind the witch and cautiously wraps his arms around her shoulders. He gently rocks her as she exhales, closing her tired eyes. “You are not and will _never_ be weak. I’m standing here breathing all because of your sheer might, your talents, and your gift. Now I still have a plan for us, you can believe in that. And I assure you that everything will be taken care of. Until then I will protect you with all I’ve got because you’re worth more than this. You _will_ get your magic back. That is a promise.”

* * *

 

In the study, Bridget is perched in the office chair while perusing a thin book. Rebekah infiltrates the silence by looming behind the witch and leaning over her shoulder. “Hiding away,” she asks, pressing two lips to her neck. “Just trying to get some reading done,” Bridget replies, smiling. She turns to look up at the Mikaelson humming in response.

“Fantastical novels?”

“More like Psychic Energy: The Essence of Life.”

“Light reading I see,” Rebekah retorts, earning a chuckle. “Why the sudden interest in exploring the abstruse depths of the mind?” Biting her lip Bridget opts to speak but is interrupted by Freya storming into the room. “I need to find Veda,” the blonde announces. The original realigns herself and the pureblood shuts her book before rising to place it on the desk. They watch as Freya digs through her collection furiously.

“She’s still out there and I don’t trust her not to hurt someone else, especially not now.”

“She has no magic, Freya. Correct me if I’m wrong but that seems to be her livelihood,” Rebekah points out. “Exactly,” Bridget chimes in. “We’re the ones sitting on Veda’s magical essence. Alana and everyone else for that matter is safe.” She sighs as her friend continues the desperate search. “She can’t be located using magic. You used the last of her blood for the tracking spell remember?”

Freya finally stops and bows her head over the items. “So what am I supposed to do? Just go about my life like she didn’t threaten my family? An innocent girl?” Bridget and Rebekah gaze at the witch empathetically. The former treads over and carefully turns her around by the arm. “Hey. I’m in one piece,” she reassures, tilting her head. “I admit that she kicked my ass a little bit, but I got a few decent licks in. You know all about my good swinging arm.” Freya tilts her own head, mildly amused by the lighthearted attempt. “We’re all _safe_ because Veda is vulnerable, and she won’t risk being captured. She knows how a confrontation would end for her. Just trust me on this, Freya.” The Viking lifts her chin as she bores into her friend’s pleading eyes.

“Fine. I’m choosing to trust you okay? Both of you.” She looks over at Rebekah before fixing her gaze back to the woman in front of her. “For now I’ll worry about other things, but I _know_ Veda. She won’t just leave it alone when it comes to her magic. Eventually she’ll find a way.” Bridget nods at the affirmation with understanding.

* * *

 

Marcel lowers his shot glass to the bar counter. “Alright, alright. I’m still in good standing with my fellow faction leaders but now they’ve been reminded of my past. They’re a little weary, I get it. So, reestablishing positive relationships is the goal here,” he upholds. “What do you have in mind? A vampire blood drive, fangs and flag football? Or maybe…an immortal companion program,” Patrick jests.

“Funny. But that is exactly the type of public relations we need,” the leader states, pointing a finger. “I want Bishop at the head of this. He’s always been on top of seeking people out and making a connection. Couldn’t have rebuilt an army without him.”

“Look, I agree but he’s still M.I.A.”

Marcel flits his eyes down in thought before shaking his head. “It’s not like him to lay low without reaching out.” He peers up at Patrick bringing his glass to his lips. “Maybe it all finally caught up to him. Losing so many people and still fighting through it without really making peace is never good,” the latter cites.

“And I would accept it if he was the one telling me that instead of RJ. I don’t know, something feels off about this.” Taking a sip of his drink Patrick gives him a knowing look. “So what do you suggest we do about it?” He sits his drink on the countertop as Marcel holds a shot glass just below his mouth.

“You and me are gonna find our guy.”

* * *

 

“Rest in peace. You were a smart ass, but I believed in your potential. I believed in _you_.”

Kayla reaches out and presses her palm to the tomb in front of her. As she gazes at the structure Sharon saddles up beside her. “You organized the service beautifully. I think he would’ve appreciated someone caring about him like that.” The Attaché drops her lifeless hand. “If only more people cared enough to see him off. He had no real family.” She turns to pierce the consul’s eyes.

“Did you know how lonely he felt inside? He fought so hard because all he really wanted was love, somewhere to belong. That’s why I laid him to rest here with my family. A little too late on extending the invitation but still, it felt like the right thing to do.”

Sharon gazes at Kayla dolefully. “I was wondering why you chose this place over Lafayette,” she states, inciting a bittersweet grin. “Well, you French Quarter witches love to bring all the drama and buzz over there. But I think Christian will feel right at home here listening to Danny Barker’s banjo and sharing war stories with Andre Cailloux,” Kayla proclaims. She waits a moment before quietly walking away. Soon after she finds Sharon hot on her trail. “I wanted to know how you were doing after the whole faction party debacle, but you never answered my calls,” the consul bellows.

“I’m alive so I’m just fine. You know how busy this job gets.”

“And what about Marcel? Is he doing just fine after causing a stir of that magnitude?”

“If he should lose his seat over trying to fight an enemy to all of us then you’re just as guilty.” Sharon halts immediately, taken aback as Kayla spins around to face her. “Yeah,” the latter remarks. “I know that you confirmed JD Walker’s return for Marcel. But instead of helping to keep this city safe you chose to be selfish.”

“And I was wrong, I know that now.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

As Kayla goes to leave again Sharon quickly grabs her arm prompting a short sigh. “We have to talk about the drug situation,” the consul affirms. “I have it under control,” the Attaché reclaims. “You don’t, no one does. I did my own research and I believe that it’s about witches keeping up their craft rather than creating an escape. The drug is designed to enhance their focus, but it comes at a steep price. Possible addiction, brain damage, maybe even…death.” The two women stare at each other.

“How do you know this?”

“Over the course of this week I’ve swiped from evidence and bought random drugs off the street, through my contacts that is. I had the drugs analyzed by someone I trust.”

“I should’ve known you’d never just listen to me and take your vacation quietly,” Kayla scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re right,” Sharon retorts, nodding. “I’ll never stop when it comes down to protecting my people. So instead of reprimanding me and hurting our progress let’s work together here. Please, Kayla.”

“I don’t need your help, Sharon.”

“Using my own words against me now?”

Kayla breathes out, exasperated. “Look, I took you off the case for perfectly sane reasons. Go ahead and make me the difficult one in this but deep down you know I’m right. You have too much going on in your head. And either way I’m just really in the mood to see my family right now. Plenty of people don’t have that blessing.” She marches away but only makes it a few feet before abruptly stopping.

“Do you like Peach Cobbler?”

“Is this your kind act of charity,” Sharon retorts. Kayla turns around with a worn expression. “Maybe I’m just convinced that you really don’t want to be alone. Call it a peace offering if you want,” she states simply. The consul hugs her arms, visibly guarded as she slowly crosses the distance.

* * *

 

Freya, Keelin, and Alana journey down the hallway decorated by a kaleidoscope of art. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen so many colors like these,” the descendant comments. The werewolf grins while marveling at the place. “It is pretty amazing,” she agrees. They approach a large oil painting of Christian confirmed by the photographs, handwritten letters, and vibrant flowers surrounding it. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Keelin expresses, looking to her wife. “He was just a kid.” Freya licks her lips as she examines the memorial.

“Yeah. Of _course_ he used a dark object on me and unleashed the misguided fury of his preteen army. That aside, he was a resilient kid. His knowledge in things beyond magic would’ve taken him far.”

Alana widens her eyes at Freya. “You fought him,” she asks. The Viking purses her lips, offering a small smile. “It’s a long story,” she supplies. Keelin shakes her head. “Come on guys.” She directs them to the sizable atrium housing unique, multicolored sculptures. After making their way across the large space the trio finally reach a middle-aged woman manning the desk.

“Excuse me. I talked to Donna Singleton yesterday about admitting a new resident. She said that someone would help while she’s out today.”

“Of course, what is the minor’s name?”

“Alana Miller.”

The receptionist clicks her tongue as she types away on the keyboard. “Let’s see here. Kristin can help you settle into things. She’s running the show today,” she notifies. Unbeknownst to them the aforementioned woman is creeping up from behind. “Did someone say my name?” Freya, Alana, and Keelin spin around to find Kristin smiling with her hands on her hips. As the Viking and the French Quarter witch lock eyes the air becomes thick with tension.

* * *

 

At headquarters, RJ enters the bustling training room where members are scattered around. Scanning the room he locates a group of daywalkers and strides over to them. “Hey, what’s going on?” Patrick throws him a glance while folding his arms. “We’re gathering a little search party for Bishop. Marcel’s call.” RJ immediately stiffens at the news.

“Why?”

He tries his best to remain neutral, but Patrick furrows his eyebrows, scrutinizing him. “If Bishop is really dealing with something then he needs his people behind him one-hundred percent. He shouldn’t be alone like this.” RJ swallows inaudibly as Marcel tramps in. “Listen up, I want eyes all over the Quarter. Everybody remains at their designated post unless I tell you to move alright? Anyone sees or hear anything I want word of it first. Am I clear?”

The daywalkers nod affirmatively as their leader turns to the soldier next to him. “Take a small team to the cemetery. All of my trusted guys are leading groups to Bishop’s main spots. If he’s in any trouble I wanna be prepared.” RJ nods accordingly as Marcel and Patrick gaze at him.

* * *

 

Sitting in a bright red booth a focused Bridget stares into equally competitive eyes. She puckers her lips goofily and from across the shiny black table Mikaela mimics her expression before wiggling her brows strategically. Automatically, Bridget caves in with shameless laughter and slaps a palm on the table. “No fair! I can’t resist the eyebrow wiggle and you know it,” she appeals.

Mikaela snickers while raising her fists in victory. “Secret weapons are allowed, Auntie Bridget! You told me that last time,” she recounts. Bridget feigns annoyance as she leans back into her seat. “Yeah, yeah.” She spoons some Oreo ice cream into her mouth while mumbling. “Only to keep my win.” Rebekah glances between the unruly pair, beaming with satisfaction.

“Well, I see the score has been settled and that is that.”

Bridget sticks the plastic red spoon in her ice cream, scoffing. “I don’t think so. The munchkin got away with her little bag of tricks.” She firmly plants her hands on the table with emphasis. Mikaela continues savoring her treat, shrugging. “It’s not my fault you love my funny face. I’m _adorable_.” Her opponent gasps dramatically before pouting as Rebekah indulges in a hearty chuckle.

“Well then little miss _adorable_. The sweets are definitely kicking in huh.”

The blonde reaches out to rest her hand on top of Bridget’s. “Don’t be a sore loser, love. If it’s any consolation I’m finding you quite as adorable at the moment,” she teases with some truth. The witch faintly blushes with a soft smile. Once the couple is reacquainted with reality they both pull back. Bridget clears her throat awkwardly and Rebekah begins shoveling strawberry ice cream into her mouth, unwittingly getting a glob of it on her nose. The pureblood tries to stifle a giggle as Mikaela dabs a bit of her own ice cream on the tip of her nose.

“Guess who I am!”

“Very clever little darling.”

As Rebekah uses a napkin to clean both of their faces an employee sweeps by the booth. “Your daughter is _so_ cute.” In an instant two pairs of eyes are on the smiling woman. “Sorry,” the original questions first. “If I’m intruding I apologize but you two have a beautiful little family. Hard to miss it.” Bridget shakes her head.

“Actually…”

“You’re mistaken, love. This is our little niece we’re looking after,” Rebekah intercepts.

The employee widens her eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I saw a resemblance and you two are so comfortable together I assumed…” The original offers a polite grin to ease the stranger. “Not to worry. I suppose I do favor my dear old sister although…this one’s new.” The employee gives her a bashful smile. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon then.” The couple watches as the woman sweeps away before looking at each other. “Well. I’m suddenly in a brilliant mood,” Rebekah quips, tilting her head. Bridget smiles at the blonde while shaking her head at the ridiculousness.

* * *

 

“Mommies I’m home,” Kayla calls as she enters the house with Sharon close behind. Occupying the living room is a grey-haired woman stitching a mosaic quilt. “Shh, girl. Can’t you see me working?” With a bright smile Kayla strolls over to the couch and plants an affectionate smooch on her cheek. “Sorry Grandma,” she apologizes, gaining a hum from the elder. Standing up straight she extends an arm to Sharon. “Grandma, this is Sharon Vance. Also known as the Queen of New Orleans. Sharon, this is Grandma Ruth.” Ruth finally peers up from her patchwork with a frown.

“The _Queen_? You mean this is the third-rate witch all up in your spot,” she questions harshly.

“Don’t start, Grandma.”

“Well I’m just saying. You’re too nice, baby.”

Kayla turns to give Sharon an attritional gaze. “She’s stuck in her heyday of sassy witches boasting their skillset. Most of her rivals came from the French Quarter so don’t take it personal,” she explains. “Got it,” the consul replies awkwardly. “Would you turn on my stories? You’ve ruined the ambiance,” Ruth proclaims. “Sure.” The Attaché moves to grab the remote and presses a button.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Mhm,” Kayla responds, turning to her superior. “Fun fact, my mother interrupted ‘Days of Our Lives’ once and ended up being forced to name me Kayla. Never mess with Grandma’s stories.” Sharon genuinely smiles at the outrageous revelation. “Wow. Sounds serious,” she remarks only to be shushed by Ruth. “Come on, she’s around here somewhere,” the Attaché beckons.

She leads her partner into the cluttered kitchen where they’re greeted with a mouth-watering aroma. Hovering over the stove is a beautiful woman preoccupied with her cooking. “Mom.” The woman turns to Kayla and summons a megawatt smile. Within seconds she’s coming over to wrap the leader in a strong embrace. “I wasn’t expecting you to stop by! I already got my yearly visit this week.” Kayla shakes her head. “Stop it, I wanted to see you.” She allows her mother to cradle her face after they pull apart. “My baby.” Sharon gazes longingly at the interaction full of love as a pair of inquisitive eyes land on her. “And who is this? The Queen in _my_ old house?” Kayla turns to regard the consul with a grin, watching as she puts on her best smile.

“I prefer Sharon actually. The regal title was never something I asked for.”

“Modest. I like that,” the older woman retorts. She approaches Sharon and extends a hand in greeting. “I’m Denise.” The consul grabs onto the offering firmly and shakes it. “Nice to meet you,” she replies. “Likewise,” Denise returns. “So where’s Daddy,” Kayla cuts in smoothly. “Not caught up in fishing and drinking I hope.”

“You know him, once his mind is set on something he’s gone. However, he can’t resist my homemade Peach Cobbler, so he won’t be gone too long.”

“Is it a special occasion? This kitchen smells amazing.”

Denise chuckles softly. “In this family we feast when we want to feast, no special occasion necessary. I’m guessing things were a bit different in your home.” Sharon shrinks a little, sad smile upon her lips. “Yeah, a bit different.” Kayla easily deciphers the subtle shift in the leader’s mood. “Uh, Mom. I can help out if you need anything,” she offers.

“Well you can start by bringing those kids around,” her mother retorts. Sharon looks between the pair in astonishment but remains quiet. “Mom, they’re in school. What can I do for right _now_ ,” Kayla asks. “I _suppose_ you could run to the store for a few things. Unless Sharon has better to do of course.” The consul grins at the woman. “It’s not a problem,” she insists generously.

* * *

 

RJ and JD stand in the middle of the Lafayette tomb. “Marcel is basically doing a city wide search for Bishop. That’s why I’m here,” the former notifies. “You shouldn’t be so surprised by his persistence. In any case all you have to do is continue playing your part,” the latter responds. RJ eyes him incredulously. “I don’t think you heard me correctly. I’m _here_ …with a group of _vampires_ …a group of _Marcel’s_ vampires who won’t hesitate to rip me apart if they figure this out,” he asserts.

“And you must have tuned out when I told you to play your part. Everything will be fine. Just relax, youngblood.”

RJ shakes his head, scoffing. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re dead. Meanwhile I’m under a damn microscope and liable to catch heat for these crimes.” JD points a finger at him. “It was _your_ choice to be the informant. Now you have to stand up and face every risk that comes with it if you want the reward my friend,” he retorts fiercely. His hand is angrily slapped away.

“I didn’t sign up to be hung out to dry, Mr. Mastermind. You haven’t even gotten rid of the body!”

“That body will be necessary to resolve the doubts between us,” Veda proclaims while sauntering in. RJ eases up and fixes his gaze to her as JD turns around to do the same. The witch comes to rest in front of them and tilts her head. “Stop the senseless quarreling and wipe away that woebegone expression, Robin. I will beget a golem for this critical task.”

* * *

 

Hayden opens the door to reveal a beaming Isla on the other side. “Sorry for the wait. I couldn’t decide between something sweet or something sour,” the witch explains. She holds a bottle of vodka up along with a white plastic bag. “All is forgiven. Come on in,” the host remarks, amused. She steps aside to allow her date in before closing the door. Then she follows her over to the living space. “Depending on what you brought me.”

Isla sets the items down on the coffee table and turns around to grip Hayden’s waist. “Hmm…maybe something sweet,” she sings. The taller woman cups her cheeks, briefly staring before leaning down to kiss her. They gleefully pull away. “Okay. How are we kicking off this movie marathon,” Isla asks. “Well, I was thinking we could start with comedies…then something romantic…” The coven leader purrs along. “Then when it starts to get dark we should be reaching the horror end of the queue.”

“Okay, look. I’m not the biggest fan of scary things as you know but I’m bravely walking right into your little ploy _only_ for the cuddling.”

“Sounds great to me.” Hayden concludes, grinning.

* * *

 

Marcel walks into the Algiers loft followed by Patrick who shuts the door behind them. The space comprises leather furniture, a large mounted flat screen, a Foosball table, and a vintage jukebox. “Alright. Let’s look for any clues that might tell us where he could’ve gone.” Patrick moves past his partner. “Already ahead of you. Back at headquarters I checked his phone records.”

He plops down on the couch and turns his attention to the laptop occupying the table. “No calls since two days ago and the last one was to the vineyard. We should be getting an update on that soon enough but for now I’ll take a crack at his personal files.” Marcel ambles over to the bar and starts sifting through a pile of papers on the countertop. “No wonder Lo Easley kept you close all those years.” His right-hand looks up from the computer. “Kickback schemes and spying on the enemy. It was a great gig,” he quips.

“I bet,” Marcel responds, moving to the shelf. He picks out a random book and begins scanning its contents. “The best warriors know when to fight with their minds instead of their fists. Bishop is one of the smartest guys I know.” Patrick narrows his eyes as he scrolls through the information. “Not very financially smart according to these bank statements,” he retorts, earning a chuckle.

“Hey, you can’t deny that he has charisma. A home decked out with a vampire’s simple pleasures is never a shameful thing. In fact…” Marcel closes the book and slips it back into its rightful place before gazing over at Patrick. “I wonder why you didn’t grab the steal when you had the chance.”

“Uh…because I already have my own place that isn’t subject to a hundred health code violations.”

“Look down on this place all you want but it holds real history alright? It became my home when I lost everything. My throne, my army, and my city. I was exiled by two originals who expected me to just run and hide after decades of being the rightful king. But instead I chose to rebuild from the bottom up, from this side of the river. Since then every step and every plan to protect the Quarter would start here, in this room. Back then I even trained a new army of vampires right where I’m standing now. Within these walls I’ve celebrated wins, faced some losses, taken a few beat downs, and bled out on the floor. So you know what, Pat? Home is what you make it and Bishop knows that better than anyone.”

Patrick finally rotates in his seat and drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “Yeah. I know that,” he states, nodding. The two vampires examine one another in silence. Patrick’s view trails over to the framed photographs resting on a small table. Marcel follows his gaze to the memories captured by sunlight and exhales softly.

* * *

 

“Your roommate is busy working with a youth group, but she should be finishing up soon. I think you’re gonna like her.”

Alana smiles at Kristin before allowing her eyes to wander around the room. The side reserved for her is bare while the other end has a typical teenaged aesthetic. The walls are plastered with music and movie posters, the bed is a simple match-up of white and grey, but the headboard is decorated with twinkling lights. There’s also a white desk in the corner piled with books. “You can fix the place up any way you’d like, within guidelines of course since we have a lot of rebels and jokesters here. Your side is your side, a blank canvas alright?” Alana looks at the woman and nods.

“Thank you,” she speaks up, gracious.

Kristin tilts her head softly. “You’re welcome, honey. Whenever you’re ready we can see where you’re at academically and start putting you in some courses. Sound good?” She receives an eager nod and chuckles before gazing at the couple near the door. “Well, she’s all set now. Feel free to stay and look around or bring her things in.”

“What do you think, sweetie? Are you up for spending your first day here?”

Alana turns around to face Keelin. “Yes. I’m ready,” she assures. The werewolf exhales before gesturing her head to the door with a smile. “Okay. Let’s go get your bags,” she directs. “I’ll make sure things are all good here,” Freya insists. Her wife lightly rolls her eyes before kissing her cheek. “Freya Mikaelson, always the protector.” The Viking offers a halfhearted smile as Keelin and Alana leave the dorm. Like clockwork she knits her fingers together while redirecting her gaze to Kristin. “Thank you. For not only giving that girl a safe haven but for tolerating me in the process.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m devoted to keeping my sister’s cause alive and my feelings toward you will never change that. Besides, it was your money that made it possible for that girl to have a home. Give yourself a big pat on the back.” Freya quietly nods before tilting her head softly. “Kristin.” The younger woman shakes her head. “No. In case you forgot I told you to stay away. Your nice doctor wife and latest attempt at salvation don’t change anything. Got it,” she reaffirms.

“I know. The last thing I wanna do is cause more pain than I already have. I swear you’ll never realize just how true that is. I don’t want to be your enemy, Kristin.”

“But you are! You will always be my worst enemy because you took something I won’t ever get back!”

Kristin stamps over to Freya and points a finger. “You took my sister away from me,” she growls, shaking violently. “So don’t come here expecting me to get over it when you know damn well I would be _done_ if the roles were reversed. Tell me that you would sing the same tune if _your_ sister was the one six feet under.” They examine each other, one fierce while the other is remorseful.

“Hey, I forgot you had the…keys.”

Keelin frowns at the tense scene in front of her. “What’s going on here? I thought we were all getting through this for Alana’s sake,” she states as a reminder. Kristin provides some space by backing off. “Alana is more than welcome here. I can’t say the same for your murderous wife,” she declares, spiteful.

“Excuse me,” Keelin retorts, taking a step forward. Quickly, Freya holds out an arm to stop her advancement. “Keelin,” she pleads, sighing. “I understand that you’re still grieving but you won’t talk to her that way. We’re here because my _compassionate_ wife rescued a child and actively chose to give her a better life. The least we can do for right now is show each other some respect.”

“I will never _respect_ the woman willing to destroy countless lives in the name of her poisonous family. I will _never_ respect the monster capable of executing my sister so brutally.”

“Maybe you forgot the details, but Freya might as well have had a gun to her head. She was a prisoner, Kristin. Shackled and mentally tortured, just like Imani. If we’re being honest with ourselves both of them couldn’t have made it out of that. And had I been the one to lose Freya I would’ve never turned your sister into my emotional punching bag.” Kristin looks away as Keelin tilts her head, silently beseeching the witch to connect. “I know you need someone to blame but that’s not Freya. Yes, she has her flaws and a past. We all do. But I’m telling you there’s plenty of good in her heart. Believe me when I say that she is _haunted_ by this too.”

Kristin whips her head to the wolf. “You might not see the real person you married but I do. Don’t ever ask me to pretend she’s anything but who she is.” She strides past the couple in pursuit of an exit. “Imani put Jordan’s survival first and that’s why I admired her right away,” Freya speaks up. “She was willing to fight for her soul and everything she believed in, even if it meant she’d die fighting.” Kristin pauses in the doorway and Freya bites her lip in anticipation. Without a single utterance the bereaved woman leaves.

* * *

 

In the Lafayette tomb, Veda positions herself on her knees before lowering an antique bowl to the ground in front of her. “My magic is trapped in a void but there is still a deep connection to my bones that can only be truly severed by Nature’s own will. If I am to tap into but only the most minute instance of it, this is the way.”

“I’ve heard many stories of spawning these creatures without conventional magic. I don’t doubt you’ll succeed, sweetheart. However, my concern lies in the risk that comes with their historically fickle temperaments,” JD states, standing behind her with RJ.

“Only if you pose a shoddy effort, darling. I, however have no room to fail in this endeavor. And if by some malevolent intervention I do, well, I can always just dismantle the creature. After all, that is the only conclusion it must meet in this world.”

“I thought even magic couldn’t touch it.”

Veda begins pouring a dark mixture from the bowl. “The golem is in fact indomitable, though one law will always stand. Destruction is merely the reversal of creation.” Using a finger she draws foreign symbols into the mud-like substance. “From these ashes I will give rise to a being tied to my word and command. These sigils will direct its power, acting as a conduit. A moment of pure ecstasy is all that is needed to complete the ritual now.” Craning her neck she regards the two vampires before offering a hand to RJ.

“Come, Robin. I want you.”

JD arches an eyebrow but quietly folds his arms. RJ sits down beside Veda as she slices her palm with a knife inciting his true face to emerge. “Control your instincts,” Veda orders. Once the vampire regains his composure she brings her hand to his lips. “Drink.” At first uncertain RJ gives into her instruction and is instantly intoxicated by her blood. Soon Veda replaces her hand with her mouth, kissing him passionately. JD rolls his eyes with disdain as RJ wraps his arms around the witch.

* * *

 

Kayla extends a hand to turn the volume knob bringing the exuberant jazz music to a low buzz within the sedan. “You’ve been too quiet this entire trip,” she voices, eyes still on the road. “I’m sorry, I thought you liked it better that way. You know, me not telling you what to do or bringing up valid issues,” Sharon chimes with sass.

“Sharon. You’re a lot to deal with but I care about how you feel. Just open up, start a dialogue here while we have the chance.”

Silence permeates the space for the next few moments. “How did I not know about your kids?” Kayla shrugs, nonchalant. “You never paid attention to much outside of your bubble,” she replies simply. Sharon glances at her before shaking her head and gazing out her window. “I’m clearly the worst type of person. Here I am constantly flexing my power yet I’m jealous of you. The more I learn about your family…” She allows the words to hang in the air.

“Forget it.”

Kayla catches a glimpse of the agitated woman. “It’s not a big deal alright? When it comes to my home life I’m a private person. And my bold, Bordeaux bloodline is not perfect Sharon. They’re headstrong, full of pride. They turn just about everything into a competition and we fight at times because of it. There’s no dream family alive.” She waits for a response but exhales knowingly when there’s no sign of one.

“You never really talk about your family either, but I know there’s a _lot_ of pain there.”

“My father was murdered when I was a baby and my mother became more interested in trying to forget. So yeah, it wasn’t the greatest portrait of happiness in my home. That’s why I had to survive on the welfare of a sociopathic vampire.”

“I’m so sorry, Sharon,” Kayla offers, shaking her head.

“Me too.”

* * *

 

Bridget and Rebekah promenade through a busy neighborhood with Mikaela holding onto their respective hands. Shining ocean eyes study the diverse faces of musicians putting down roots in the street as well as restless citizens and excited tourists alike. “I tend to forget how inspiring the Quarter really is. The electrifying jazz, breathtaking art. The enduring culture of it all. Only in moments such as these am I reminded of just how much this is worth consuming whole.”

Rebekah spots a woman snatching a cap off a man’s head and smiles as he bear-hugs his lover before kissing her senseless. Bridget follows her gaze and supplies a dreamy smile of her own. “Spoken like a true poet, princess.” Mikaela peers up at the witch before settling on the vampire. “Can I ask you something, Auntie Bex?” Joyful blue orbs meet curious hazel ones.

“Of course, love.”

“Do you like being with Auntie Bridget? You always smile when she’s here and you go to her house a lot.”

“I do,” Rebekah admits, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Before she can divulge further Mikaela turns her attention to Bridget. “Do you like being with Auntie Bex,” the child asks. “Yeah…I do. What’s with the questions though, munchkin,” the pureblood throws back. “When you watch Auntie Bex I feel how warm you are inside,” Mikaela reclaims before looking to the blonde. “You both are warm and fuzzy inside because you’re really really happy.” Two pairs of eyes examine the hybrid closely before finding each other.

“How come you don’t just live together in a great big house where you can always be happy like Mama and Mommy? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Her aunts are officially blown away by her perceptiveness as they find themselves at a loss for words. Although they’re caught off guard and are completely unprepared they know that lying to her is never a choice. However, some things were just far too complicated for the little girl to understand despite how bright she’s shown herself to be.

“Little darling…”

Rebekah sighs as Mikaela eyes her intently. “This particular subject is a bit more complicated than that. Auntie Bridget and I have our own situation apart from one like your parents. Of course we enjoy spending time together and days such as today bring out the best of us, especially with you. But for now cherishing the moments we do have in one another’s company is enough. We don’t need to live in a great big house together to keep our happiness.” She awaits the next response as her niece bites her lip in thought.

“You and Auntie Bridget should go on dates all the time, even if you don’t live together.”

Rebekah stalls at the straightforwardness and looks over at Bridget who’s just as dumbfounded. Mikaela grins sincerely as she joins their hands together and holds their wrists. Satisfied, she peers up but catches sight of a man accepting a cartoonish portrait from a street artist. “Can I get a picture,” she asks, jumping up and down. Her aunts soon follow the guide of a little pointer finger and exhale in relief before smiling at her.

* * *

 

The twosome parks along the curb in front of a dirty white shotgun house. The wood paneling is stained with mildew, the front door is boarded up, and the concrete garden bed holds barren soil. Sharon knits her brows at the abandoned home before turning to Kayla. “Why are we here?” Grinning at the question the Attaché unbuckles her seatbelt. “You’ll just have to see for yourself.” She opens up her door and slips out leaving her partner to reluctantly follow. They maneuver through the wooden gate and trek around the side of the house until they reach the vacant backyard.

“This used to be a hangout spot. All of us Tremé kids would sit back here on some old furniture and just dream things into reality.” Kayla walks over to lift a piece of wood leaning against the house. Crouching down she roams her eyes over the etchings in the concrete. “Look. My sister wanted to own a business, she carved it out right here and worked until it happened for her.” She rests her finger on another entry. “Here. This kid Jacob wanted to drive a nice car one day. He became a surgeon just to make that happen but ended up losing his license and eventually all his money. Still driving the Benz though.” Her eyes land on a final aspiration. “And here, a young Vincent Griffith prayed so hard to get into college. He hated his day job and well, you know how that worked out.”

“You two were actually friends,” Sharon asks, smiling. She watches as Kayla climbs to her feet before rubbing the dust off her hands. “Girl, if it was up to my family we would’ve been Mr. and Mrs. Griffith right now. Before he turned his back on our coven everyone expected him to be like a second coming of Jesus. And both of us being from old bloodlines seemed like a potential match made in heaven but…we were just kids. It looked good on paper, so we dated on and off. The wild child Eva Sinclair came along and eventually we realized it was never going to work between us. In retrospect it’s great that we dumped each other for good.”

“Wow. Yeah…I’m inclined to agree.”

“Why?”

The two witches stare at each other until the situation is registered. “Oh,” Kayla chirps. “Okay…what happened there?” Sighing, Sharon offers an uncommitted shrug. “I screw things up. There was drama with Lo and my opposition to Marcel. Then on top of that the boy created from the Griffith-Sinclair union suddenly resurfaced and I couldn’t let Vincent take on my issues. I knew that he would try so hard, even with his son in the picture. So, I cut him off to allow him a real life away from this place.”

“Damn. Refusing to give up on an unavailable witch does sound like Vincent.”

“Yeah. So why did you bring me here? I know it wasn’t for the eventful trip down memory lane.”

“I brought you here so that maybe you will allow _yourself_ to dream of something better. Something truly worth living for ‘cause right now, all I see is a broken spirit barely hanging on. You’re not that little girl just trying to survive anymore, Sharon. You can have better than that.”

Suddenly defensive Sharon shakes her head. “I refuse to believe that your adolescent tradition has any effect on the real world,” she remarks, firm. “Then I guess we’ll never know,” Kayla replies, shrugging. She wordlessly moves past the troubled woman. “What did you dream of?” Spinning around she finds conflicting emotions in the light eyes on her. “Leading my coven, living up to great expectations.” Sharon bites her lip and Kayla tilts her head softly. “I’ll give you some time okay? Maybe you’ll find that it was actually worth it.” Quietly, the Attaché turns to leave the area.

* * *

 

After tugging on each corner of a blue comforter Freya plops down on the bed with a sigh. She peers over at her wife filling the dresser with folded clothes. “Kinda crazy how teenaged girl things weren’t supposed to be on our radar for a while. Who would’ve thought we’d be shopping for two in one year,” Keelin remarks.

“Everything happens for a reason right?”

“Right. Maybe this is the universe’s way of making you play fairy godmother.”

Freya shakes her head at the joke, allowing a momentary silence to fill the room. “You didn’t have to defend my honor before. Everything Kristin said was true. I’m…a hypocrite and a monster, even worse a Mikaelson. We’re not exactly in the business of owning up to selfish decisions and rectifying our vicious actions,” she speaks up. After closing a drawer an empathetic Keelin saunters over to stand above the blonde. “I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive and forget if I lost Rebekah the way she lost Imani.” The werewolf crouches down and grasps her wife’s hand.

“Hey. I defended you because I know your heart okay? Kristin is just hurting. I know that pain she’s feeling right now, the pain of losing a big sister. There’s nothing either of us can do to change it but we _can_ allow her to heal. You can, Freya.”

With a short nod Freya licks her lips before looking down at their clasped hands. Keelin lowers her head to place a gentle kiss upon pale knuckles, leaning against them shortly after. A few moments of peace goes by until a knock sounds on the door. Two pairs of eyes flit over to the unexpected visitor standing in the entryway. Keelin gets up and shifts her position while Freya rises from the bed anxiously.

“Is Alana around here?”

“Maddie took her to the library. My guess is they’ll be there for a while.”

Kristin supplies a short nod to Keelin before fixing her weary gaze to Freya. “I can’t give you my forgiveness. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to,” she breathes out as the Viking looks to the floor, barely nodding. “But you were right. I know my sister and she would’ve rather stared death in the face than become another victim.” Freya blinks at the unanticipated words and Kristin rests a hand on her chest. “In my heart I know that it wasn’t your fault, Freya. My mind just needs time, time to come to terms with that. Right now I can only associate your face with her death.”

“You won’t have to see me again after this,” Freya affirms, shaking her head. Kristin wipes away a fallen tear. “I know you’re helping Alana but honestly I think that’s for the best. I need time.” The blonde examines her, internally wincing at the crack of her voice. “Okay,” she confirms. Kristin quietly nods and Keelin bites her lip before turning to gaze at Freya.

* * *

 

A pair of deep eyes narrow in on Veda sitting cross legged on the ground in meditation. “Your ritual was quite the show. Although an inordinate combination of blood and sex magic is a little too _avant-garde_ for my taste.” The witch continues to focus on her breathing. “Perhaps a bit of chaos is much too demoralizing for the beautifully uninspired,” she chirps simply.

“Maybe.”

“Which is why you took your leave. Say what you mean, James. You want to know why the pleasure necessary to create my servitor did not require you as a source.”

“Alright then. Why didn’t you just use me instead of leading that traitor on?”

Opening her eyes Veda twists around to regard JD. “For me true ecstasy lies in power. My blood alone uplifted Robin as well as the dramatic show of my desire. He fell to his knees in worship and in his place another rose to serve me. I find nothing else in this world more satisfying,” she proclaims.

**_The trio watch in awe as a figure emerges from the slimy pile. The sigils glow on top of the golem’s head as it begins to take the shape of a disfigured Bishop. Once the creation is complete it bows its head. Veda steps forward, away from RJ’s hold on her lower back to greet it. “My servitor, your sole task is to retrieve the ring housing my magic at all costs.” She pierces the creature’s murky eyes. “I can feel the call of my power from just one place.” The golem nods in understanding before turning to RJ with a stony expression. The vampire looks back at the creature with unease._ **

Veda softens her gaze and climbs to her feet. “Since the day you brought Robin into our alliance my affection has been part of his lust for more. He, like most, desire what they cannot have. This was only a vision of promising love I conjured to preserve his loyalty to our cause. And truthfully I am not able to find any pleasure in using you within such context,” she admits, earning a smirk.

“So, is this some twisted way of admitting to your true feelings for me?”

Veda gives JD a mirthless smile. “Don’t you recall my previous stance on our devious affair? I will never be your spring lamb showering you in blind devotion.” The vampire pushes off the support of the stone platform to reach the witch. “I don’t want that, only you. So, after you get your magic back come with me. The final weapon I need is elsewhere and I can show you some of the new world as we take what we deserve. Together.”

* * *

 

From a balcony a curly-haired woman and a tall freckled man scan the sea of pedestrians down below. The woman furrows her brows as she spots a figure, cloaked in a dark hood, trooping through the bustling crowd. “Hey. Does that guy right there seem a little out of place to you,” she asks, pointing. Right when her partner narrows in part of the figure’s deformed face is exposed as it glances back at pedestrians. The pair widen their eyes before looking at each other.

“That’s him. I know those eyes from anywhere.”

“Call Marcel. I’ll go after Bishop,” the soldier instructs before disappearing in a flash.

By the time the golem cuts into a secluded alleyway he’s waiting with a tilt of his head. “Bishop? What’s going on?” Instead of providing an answer the creature moves ahead. “Bishop,” the vampire warns. He speedily grabs the golem by the shoulders before yanking the hood back to reveal sunken features. “What the…” The golem swiftly snaps the vampire’s neck and drops his body as he tramps forward.

* * *

 

At the Warehouse District loft Mikaela and Bridget sit on the sofa with a mahogany guitar across their laps. The witch positions the hybrid’s fingers in the correct placement. “Okay. You’re all good now so strum.” She bobs her head along as Mikaela taps the nylon strings. “You got it.” Rebekah moseys into the space while holding up a red plate.

“Sorry to interrupt but I do have one glorious grilled cheese sandwich for a precious little darling.”

Without missing a beat Bridget lifts her guitar allowing an eager Mikaela to race towards the table. “And that’s how you play a nice major chord progression." After leaving the plate on the table Rebekah approaches her while chuckling. “I could never grow tired of that sweet innocence. Can you recall the last time cheese on toast warranted such an overjoyed response from yourself?”

She watches her lover rise to place the guitar on its stand by the wall. “I was twelve and it was the summertime. My mother actually let me stay over a friend’s house where I first experienced the carb loaded goodness,” Bridget narrates as a playful dramatization. The blonde frowns at the information. “Really now? As an American child in adolescence?” The witch spins around, laughing.

“If you can believe it I probably would’ve never seen a pizza until adulthood under her watch. Sacrifice is a part of being the best.”

“Well, I’m sorry you were denied the simple pleasure for so long. Good news is, I’ve whipped up plenty to go around.”

Bridget’s smile fades as she bites her lip. “Actually…can we talk first? In the kitchen,” she requests. Rebekah scrutinizes her for a moment before accepting with a short nod. She follows the witch’s lead to the kitchen and stops as she rotates to face her. “So…this is a lot but spending the day with you and Mikaela made me realize that…I should just say it. A week ago I found out that I’m psychic.”

“Apart from the witchy heritage,” Rebekah inquires, tilting her head in surprise. Bridget nods in confirmation. “Based on what I’ve gathered so far psychics have been around for just as long as witches. All it means is that I have advanced mental capabilities. I could be human with them, a werewolf. Doesn’t matter. They’re innate and always there whether I train them or not.”

“I might’ve crossed paths with a few over the centuries. Though I’ve only known them to be human and eager to avoid those of the supernatural variety. Well, unless you count the charlatans and swindlers making a tireless mockery of the bunch.”

“Yeah. Supernatural info can be limited at times.”

“Hence I found you descending into Pseudoscience drivel this morning. So, fancy telling me how this revelation came about?”

Looking down, Bridget toys with her fingers before finally piercing blue eyes. “Sometimes…when everything gets too quiet I’m left with these thoughts about whether I’m doing things right or how I’m not strong enough. I get so tired sometimes, but I have this…deep fear of losing everything I love. It keeps me up at night because it’s always there in the back of my mind. You were right about my savior complex. It’s just another form of armor for me.” Unsure of what to make of the admission, Rebekah opts to come closer and grabs onto the witch’s fidgeting hands. “I was thinking these thoughts when I experienced astral projection. I traveled to another dimension, a beautiful place where I saw Greg.”

The blonde gazes at her lover in astonishment. “Peace,” she breathes. “No,” Bridget replies, shaking her head. “A place I didn’t know existed, one created by me. When he died I subconsciously put him there. I finally set him free to find peace but before that he showed me some books. He told me that I constructed my own perfect world from my greatest pain, but I didn’t believe it until he brought me to a baby nursery. That’s where I saw a vision of my miscarriage, Rebekah. I felt everything all over again and honestly I’ve been too freaked out to even _try_ to go back.” Rebekah gives Bridget a heartbroken expression before wrapping her in her arms.

“I didn’t want to complicate things with so much already going on,” the pureblood states, grasping her back. “I know. I know the way you think,” the original attests. They pull apart to hold a strong gaze. “So credit me with some sense, love. I’m always going to support you alright? I’m right here with you no matter what.” Bridget offers a watery but appreciative smile before nodding.

* * *

 

Marcel and Patrick arrive on the scene to find the other vampires camping outside the compound. “Why is he here,” the former questions. The curly-haired vampire shakes her head. “I don’t know.” Her partner rubs at his sore neck. “He’s very…different so be warned,” he chimes. “Alright. Follow me.” The group files in through the carriageway, noting the missing gate as they fill the courtyard. A loud crash from upstairs alerts them to their target. Marcel darts to the study and scans the room, discovering a mess of tossed furniture. Within seconds his eyes fall upon the hooded figure standing by the bookcase while inspecting Veda’s ring. He quickly recognizes the jewelry and prepares himself.

“Bishop. Come on, what are you doing here?”

He receives no response as the golem turns to him with empty eyes. It begins marching over signaling him to raise a hand. “Hey.” His warning does little to deter the golem, so he grabs onto it but is flung into a wall. For a moment he sits against the support but in a blur of speed he appears in front of his target. “Bishop, you’re not taking that ring.” The golem swings a fist, but Marcel dodges it and grabs the creature’s arm before thrusting it into a wall. Its eyes become murky as it rushes the vampire off the balcony and onto the courtyard floor.

There the golem starts bashing Marcel’s face until Patrick swoops in to grapple it from behind. The leader zips to his feet and stares at his right-hand critically. Suddenly the golem flips Patrick over onto his back and whips its head towards the ring spinning on the floor. Marcel follows its eyeline just in time to catch RJ picking the item up. “Keep that ring safe!” He races towards the golem and is instantly knocked across the courtyard. Two other vampires charge at their target only to experience full impact. As they glide through the air the golem catches a fist thrown at it and crushes the soldier’s hand before head-butting him. The curly-haired vampire swiftly kicks the creature in its chest and face causing it to stumble back.

“Bishop,” she tries, tilting her head. The golem glares at her before rushing forward and she twists its arm behind its back, grunting. “This isn’t you!” Utilizing its strength the golem manages to pry its arm out of her hold and shoves her away. RJ readies himself as he becomes the next target and charges at his enemy. He punches it repeatedly until his arm is violently ripped from the socket. Veda’s ring drops to the floor as the golem lifts RJ by the neck. Marcel dashes in from behind and plunges a hand into the assailant. He finds no heart and frowns as dust falls between his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” RJ shouts, struggling. Several pairs of eyes watch in confusion. “I should’ve never betrayed you like that! You were my best friend!” The golem squeezes the vampire’s neck despite the tearful confession and Marcel grabs its arm with glowing red eyes. While gasping for air RJ’s thoughts race by a mile a minute. _Destruction is merely the reversal of creation_. His eyeballs enlarge.

“The sigils! They’re in its head!”

Marcel gives him a skeptic look but quickly thrusts a hand into the golem’s head with a grunt. Ripping out its contents he holds the imprinted matter in his palm. The golem crumbles to the floor instantaneously and RJ is swiftly caught by his leader. Patrick and the rest of the vampires stare at the pair breathing heavily. Marcel narrows his eyes at RJ, allowing his blazing irises to quell into a deep brown.

* * *

 

Within the dark, cold prison Marcel lays the final brick encasing his soldier. “Why’d you do it,” he asks straightforwardly. RJ doesn’t flinch as he bows his head in shame. “Was three hundred years buried here worth it? You’ll be all alone and labeled as a traitor for as long as you live.” Slowly, the young vampire peers up at his leader. “Anything is better than being an errand boy trapped in everybody’s shadow,” he maintains, eyes worn. Marcel examines him closely, breathing in the damp air.

* * *

 

“I felt the descent into nothingness as if it were my own piteous demise. Wasn’t it?”

JD takes hold of Veda’s shaking hands prompting her to look up at him. “Once upon a time I ran for my survival. And it was in my deepest anguish that I had nearly been driven to death because of it. I fought then until my last breath with the ultimate goal of true immortality. This second chance of mine was meant to fulfill that promise, James. I rose from the ashes like a phoenix and I refused to return to dust ever again.”

“Come with me and it will be fulfilled. You will return stronger than ever. You just need the right resources, a reminder of who you are with or without your magic. That’s where it starts,” JD affirms, placing Veda’s hand on his heart. “Here. I know places where you can get that focus back. You are that phoenix rising from the ashes and this situation now is no different. _Trust_ in me.” Veda searches his eyes.

* * *

 

In the study Bridget rearranges the displaced books on the shelf while Freya hovers over a map piled with grey dust. “Give it a rest,” the former remarks, shooting a glance over her shoulder. “You’ve been at it for almost an hour now.” Her focused friend stands stiff in her place. “Sorry to inconvenience you but resting isn’t an option until I find her.” Abandoning her own task Bridget materializes beside the Viking. “She’s off the map, Freya. That means she’s running. There’s no one to help her get around things now and you know that failure of a last attempt did more than bruise her ego.” Austere green eyes flit to her, unconvinced. “She brought a golem into my home, a feat that takes a hell of a lot of discipline to create without magic.”

“I know and I’m sorry okay? That was my bad for underestimating her. I’m not saying that we should just let this go but we can’t chase her all over the world. We have lives and she has nothing. Our best option is protecting our home, so I propose that we check things out tomorrow. Look around the city, make sure she’s not lurking in the shadows. You’re friends with the Queen after all. Maybe she can send out a ‘Wanted’ poster.”

“I’m not exactly _friends_ with her and I’ve used up all my favors by trying to _keep_ Veda out of trouble,” Freya recounts, tilting her head. Bridget mimics the gesture with a set gaze causing the blonde to exhale. “But…that is actually a good idea. I’ll call Sharon first thing.”

“ _And_?”

Freya lightly rolls her eyes in response. “ _And_ …we can check things out tomorrow,” she gives in. Satisfied, Bridget nudges her shoulder with her own. “Now there’s my clear thinking Viking. Want me to stay in the fortress tonight? We can go over plans in the morning,” she offers.

“Would you?”

“Always.”

“Good,” Freya concludes, smiling. “Well, I guess I should go check on the progress downstairs. Any room you’d like for the night is yours although my sister will probably make a case.” Bridget offers a lukewarm nod as she looks into the eyes resembling her articulate goddaughter’s. The innocent dissection into her relationship from earlier suddenly twists into guilt. By the time she collects her thoughts she notices that Freya is heading for the door.

“Freya.”

The Viking comes to a halt and spins around in one motion. Once again her clear eyes manage to conflict Bridget who gradually loses her nerve. “Never mind. It can wait,” she insists, shaking her head. Freya briefly examines her before nodding. “Okay. See you downstairs.” She makes her exit leaving Bridget to plant her hands on the desk with an exhausted sigh.

* * *

 

Hayden readjusts her head on Isla’s chest as they lie across the leather couch. “This is nice…peaceful. I’m surprised you’re still here.” The coven leader redirects her eyes from the news to look down at her date. “Why wouldn’t I be? I told you that I wasn’t missing out on this,” she replies. “Well full disclosure. I’m about two seconds away from falling asleep on you. _Literally_.” Isla chuckles softly and Hayden pulls herself up to gaze at her seriously.

“What if I stayed longer? We wouldn’t have to cling to every second like this. We could take our time.”

“You’re suggesting that you stay here, in New Orleans?”

“Why not?”

Isla sits up on the couch. “Maybe because you have a trip to Scotland coming up,” she points out. “I’ve been traveling the world for years now. I can put it off to be in one place for a little bit.” The witch tilts her head, hesitant. “Hayden. I don’t want you to postpone your plans just for me.” Hayden shakes her head in opposition. “Nope. Either you’re coming with me or I’m staying. My work here isn’t done until I’ve convinced you to live a little.” Isla slowly grins in awe of the persistent woman.

* * *

 

“Bishop was a good guy. Down to earth, smart. He was always there when you needed him, both professionally and as a friend,” Patrick expresses. He’s standing in front of a large gathering at Rousseau’s, roaming his eyes over the mournful patrons. “He never judged anyone for anything and you could count on his loyalty to the end if he called you brother…or sister. But if you ever crossed the people he cared about you could be sure he’d give you a mean ass whooping.” A rumble of laughter sweeps the bar as Patrick raises his glass in the air. “Rest easy, man. You might be gone but you’ll never be forgotten.” The patrons toast to their fallen friend and resume drinking. Their second-in-command goes to plop down on the stool beside their leader.

“Alright there, boss? You’ve been radio silent.”

Marcel turns his head to acknowledge Patrick. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a text from Bridget. She’s searching for Veda tomorrow with Freya so I’m thinking we could lend a hand. Pieces of Bishop were used like a puppet. He was used like nothing and everything he was got twisted up.” His right-hand nods in agreement. “We’re gonna help shut her down for good. What about RJ though?”

“What about him?”

“Three-hundred years for the death of a brother, conspiracy against his own leader, and treason all for some witch. I find it hard to believe he’d just up and turn so easily.”

“Yeah well he refused to tell me anything. Only reason I didn’t kill him is because he deserves to suffer for what he did.”

“True loyalty is few and far between. He will rot all alone in the dark knowing Bishop gave us that and more,” Patrick declares. Marcel raises his shot glass with a browbeaten look. “To Bishop,” he dedicates. The younger vampire regards the leader for a moment. “To Bishop,” he repeats, lifting his own glass. The pair fall into a deep silence as they tend to their drinks.

* * *

 

A group of candles illuminate the tranquil room as Freya and Keelin lie in bed, facing each other. The brunette carefully tucks a strand of golden hair behind her soulmate’s ear. “You’re drifting far away again.” She observes the conflicted witch biting her lip. “All this stuff with Veda, with _me_ …” Freya shakes her head and exhales with unease.

“I’m reminded of just how much I don’t want this for Mikaela.”

For a moment she closes her eyes as her wife caresses her cheek. “I opened Valhalla because I wanted to prove that I could be someone other than the reformed villain struggling to keep her demons at bay. I don’t want to leave our daughter a legacy of darkness and fear. I know you can’t see it, these days I’m having trouble myself but…despite her sins there was a time when Veda wanted a different path for me. I could’ve been Dahlia or even Esther. Mikaela could end up hating me for everything I’ve done. It’s like a Mikaelson rite of passage and I don’t want to lose her ever.”

“You won’t. Okay? _Ever_. Our beautiful daughter sees you for who you truly are and will always love you despite your faults because you are her mother. You’ve given her so much Freya and none of it includes this inevitable darkness or impending resentment you’re waiting on. I know there’s a lot you’re keeping from her out of the need to be the protector. Trust me, I get it. But when the time comes we’ll sit down and have that talk together as a family. We’re breaking the cycle not feeding into it alright?”

Although tentative Freya nods in agreement and Keelin licks her lips. “I…had no right to feel this way but I have to be honest too. I harbored some really ugly jealousy towards Veda for months.” The wolf allows the admission to sink in for her stunned wife. “See. I’m not so perfect either. I don’t _even_ wanna tell you what some of my thoughts came to before. Part of me just couldn’t stand to see the love and respect you held in your heart for her.”

“Keelin, my heart is where it belongs. With you.”

A hopeful smile is exchanged between the couple before they move into a tender kiss. After a warm embrace they pull back to gaze at each other with traces of love in their eyes. The door creaks, notifying them of two heads peeking into the bedroom. “Jordan is scared,” Mikaela claims. “ _Actually_ I just couldn’t sleep given the whole break-in situation. The Nugget is definitely the scared one though,” Jordan corrects. Freya and Keelin wordlessly lift their covers, signaling the girls to join them. Without delay the twosome is padding over to climb into the sizable bed. Mikaela snuggles into Freya while Jordan settles into the spot between her and Keelin. Once they’re comfortably sandwiched between the two women they’re blanketed in warmth. From across the short distance emerald eyes meet their chestnut counterparts in a moment of undeniable contentment.


	8. Burning The Midnight Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya experiences strange symptoms; Bridget and Rebekah commence Josh's wedding weekend with a house party; Jordan is dragged to a kickback by Jasmine; Sharon uncovers a deeper mystery; Veda returns to New Orleans with a vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back with another chapter! This one marks the beginning of the end for the story's first half, so I'm excited to wrap up some arcs and get to the big bad. A special guest will be making an appearance in this chapter, or two if you count technological options lol. And because of Freya's internal struggle (which always means creating distance from Keelin) these three chapters centered around the wedding will delve more into the other relationships as in romantic, familial, and friendship. So, don't worry because Freelin and their family situation will of course be the main conflict from Ch. 11 on to the second half. But for now we have some Freelin mischief and cuteness in this chapter haha. As always I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Sebastian Forslund - One Day: Rebekah and Bridget talk about traveling.
> 
> 2) Babygirl - Soft: Freya plays with Mikaela.
> 
> 3) Madjo - Bloody Afternoon: Sharon talks to Danny; Veda gets her magic back.
> 
> 4) Nick Kingswell - River Runs Red: Rebekah and Josh talk about relationships; Freya and Keelin talk about Jordan.
> 
> 5) More Giraffes - Basement: Davina arrives at Josh's party.
> 
> 6) Andrea Wasse - Sinners And Saints: Sharon and Alex talk after dinner.
> 
> 7) Marian Hill - Whisky: Freya and Keelin arrive at Josh's party and talk to Rebekah.
> 
> 8) Kailee Morgue - Do You Feel This Way: Jordan and Jasmine talk at the house party, Patrick talks to Freddie.
> 
> 9) ODESZA - Across The Room: Rebekah and Kol talk over FaceTime, Freya and Keelin dance before running into Hayden.
> 
> 10) Ashe - Real Love: Jordan and Taylor talk at the house party.
> 
> 11) King Princess - 1950: Rebekah and Bridget officially define their relationship.
> 
> 12) TENDER - No Devotion: Aniya confronts Jordan at the house party.
> 
> 13) Old Sea Brigade - Feel You: Jordan and Patrick talk after tucking Jasmine in bed; Keelin, Freya, Bridget, and Rebekah talk in the courtyard.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

**_San Francisco, Years Ago._ **

**_“Freya.”_ **

**_Freya snaps out of her runaway thoughts and redirects her eyes from the view of the patio to the concerned vampire staring at her. They’re sitting on adjacent leather couches, bathed in the quiet of the living room and the midday sun pouring in from the wide sliding doors. “What are you doing here, Freya?” Already dreading the conversation, Freya exhales and licks her dry lips before planting her elbows on her knees._ **

**_“I’m visiting my brother that I miss so much, even if he doesn’t seem to return the sentiment.”_ **

**_Kol tilts his head, easily sensing a darkness hanging over his sibling. “I’m always happy to see you and the little one, sister. It’s just that a very irritated werewolf has made the Mikaelson rounds in order to reach you. Clearly this visit is one of convenience rather than a heartwarming answer to my absence. So, do you mind telling me what you’ve really gotten yourself into?”_ **

**_Freya releases an exhausted sigh and clasps her hands together. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know where else to go. I was so…angry at the time. Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’ll admit that,” she states. “Well, I know a thing or two about being overwhelmingly angry. But Freya, it isn’t like you to run off like this,” Kol points out._ **

**_“I didn’t run off. I told Keelin where I was going. I respected her wishes despite not agreeing with them and yet I’m still the bad guy here. I just can’t win with her, brother.”_ **

**_“This is odd, me being the voice of reason, but you shouldn’t have left town without talking to Keelin first. Mikaela is her daughter too. Certainly, coaxing our unstable brother wasn’t worth the dramatic approach now was it?”_ **

**_Freya shakes her head. “It’s not even about that anymore. She really believes that I would intentionally put our daughter in harm’s way, Kol. Yes, I wanted to ease my brother’s pain. No matter how much the world may see him as a monster he’s still family. Knowing that he’s been denied the very thing I treasure every day doesn’t make me feel all that great. So I thought…I thought just for a moment that I could do something about it. My daughter could help him see the light again and I could finally put my family back together. But after I said it all out loud I knew I couldn’t risk involving my child in one of Klaus’s paranoid tantrums. That didn’t stop Keelin from picking at old wounds though. After everything we’ve been through she’ll never trust me again and I got scared that one day she’ll rethink not taking Mikaela away. For two years all that has mattered is her safety. I can’t be away from her.”_ **

**_Kol and Freya hold a strong gaze as Davina pads into the space with Mikaela in her arms. The brunette looks between the two siblings curiously before stopping next to the eldest. “She woke up crying and only wanted you.” Freya peers up to find the toddler rubbing an eye with her little fist. Biting her lip, she rises from the couch to carefully accept the child. Davina moves around the two-level coffee table to sit next to Kol on the couch._ **

**_“Hey, baby girl. Everything’s alright now. I’ve got you okay?”_ **

**_Freya cradles the back of Mikaela’s head and presses a tender kiss to her temple before wandering the room. Short arms tighten around her neck and she closes her eyes while gently bouncing the tired child. When the weight she’s accustomed to finally settles onto her shoulder she releases a deep breath. “I’ve got you.” Davina offers a melancholy smile as she observes the mother and daughter alongside an equally sympathetic Kol._**  

“Aunt Freya.”

Freya grabs at her forehead to ease the dull throbbing of her brain. After a beat she turns around to find Jordan loitering in the doorway with a frown identical to Keelin’s. “Are you okay?” An endeared grin slides its way onto Freya’s lips as she drops her hand on the purple suitcase occupying the twin bed. “Yeah. I guess early morning laundry isn’t the greatest form of entertainment.”

Jordan’s expression shifts into hilarity before she enters the bedroom. “Nope. I’m pretty sure that’s reserved for early morning magic,” she retorts. “Very true…but I think I might have something else planned for today,” Freya reveals, watching as the teenager springs into curiosity. “Field trip for the Nugget,” Jordan asks.

“Not exactly. I was just thinking about all the things we’d do back in Kentucky. It made her so happy that I decided maybe it’s time to bring some of those activities here, with a _twist_.” Jordan nods, feeling a pang of guilt as she bites her lip. “Hey, Aunt Freya. I know I’m not a cute little consolation prize or anything but…if it makes you feel better you’ll still have me hanging around here.”

Freya shakes her head with a widening grin. “I haven’t _willingly_ let her out of my sight since she was born but…I know she’ll be well taken care of. Spending time with family is important so it’s good to know you’re not planning on leaving me too,” she remarks appreciatively. “Not a chance. How many people can say that they’re related to an ancient all-powerful witch,” Jordan muses, chin raised. “Okay maybe ‘ _all-powerful_ ’ is an overstatement. I’m just pretty good at what I do.” The teen giggles and a gratified Freya tilts her head at the sound.

* * *

 

Sharon groans and stretches her limbs out on a bright blue futon. As her senses reawaken it becomes apparent that a little visitor is in her company. “Good morning.” She finally cracks an eye open to confirm her suspicions and meets the gaze of a little girl standing over her. Sitting up on her elbows she provides an inviting smile. “You must be the famous Kira.” The child simply nods while toying with one of her long braids.

“Well I’m Sharon and I work with your mom. Do you know where she is?”

“Looking for my bookbag.”

“Okay well…”

“If you’re the Queen how come you’re sleeping on my couch? Don’t you have your own house? Like a castle or something?”

With a quirk of an eyebrow Sharon swings her legs over to sit upright on the futon. “I do in fact have my own home. It’s not a _castle_ but I like to think of it as my own private palace. You should see the view, it’s pretty nice. Last night I was just so tired that…I guess I fell asleep here,” she explains, shrugging. Kira stares at her for a moment before providing a shrug of her own.

“Well, not having a castle isn’t so bad. At least you get to tell people what to do and they have to do whatever it is. That’s what my daddy says.”

Sharon tilts her head inquiringly just as Kayla comes strolling into the living room. “You better not be bothering the Queen. She’s not very pretty when she’s cranky,” the Attaché warns, dangling a pink backpack. Kira turns to look at her pointedly. “She doesn’t look _that_ bad, Mommy.” Grinning, Kayla bends down to boost her daughter up onto her hip. “Not what I meant.” She sighs animatedly before settling her gaze on Sharon.

“Sorry. Quincy had a last minute building crisis so I’m in charge of getting this one to daycare.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on taking over your couch during some serious surveillance. I’ll just grab my things and we can regroup later.”

Kayla shakes her head in protest. “Hey, I fell asleep too. We’ve both been working hard this week, so it was bound to catch up with us. But just so you _know_ , you hum in your sleep. It kinda worries me.” Sharon playfully rolls her eyes, earning a chuckle from her partner. “Stay. It won’t take me long to drop her off.” The consul bites her lip before accepting the insistence with a short nod.

“Alright. I’ll stay and hope for the sake of my career that I didn’t miss something big last night.”

“Good. Well, we’re out. Say bye to the Queen, Kira.”

“Bye,” Kira departs with a wave. Sharon smiles at the little girl while waving back. “Bye.” She watches as Kayla spins around to exit the living room. “She has your sass by the way.” The Attaché continues walking. “I got the sass from her,” she throws over her shoulder. Pleasantly amused, Sharon turns her attention to the small bronze pot on the coffee table. She reaches out to motion a hand over it and the image of a man sleeping in bed appears in the dark liquid.

* * *

 

After pushing her way through the front door Isla removes her key from the lock and quickly notices the mess of food on the counter. She stiffens but slowly closes the door before moving forward to set her keys down in a silver bowl. “Who’s here?” There’s no sign of life as she scans the kitchen area but soon her eyes spot an uninvited visitor. Perched on the small circular table in the living space is the bisque clown usually accompanying JD. Its faded light blue eyes almost stare into her own causing her blood to run cold. She takes a moment to prepare herself before crossing the distance. Once she’s in close proximity to the antique she reaches out to it, but a hand firmly grasps her shoulder. Startled, she whirls around to find her disheveled aunt lurking behind her.

“Dominique,” Isla breathes, promptly wrapping her arms around her. “Oh my god. How are you here right now?” She pulls back to examine the woman trembling in her embrace. Dominique’s skin is a ghostly shade while her eyes are sunken in creating dark pits. Isla reaches up to gently smooth her scruffy brown locks back. “Come sit down,” she beckons, moving towards the tan couch. However, Dominique slowly rocks her head from side to side. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers tearfully. In a quick move she brandishes a pen-like instrument and jabs it into Isla’s inner wrist. The coven leader recoils in shock but holds onto her unsteady aunt. She watches as the woman’s hazel irises disappear behind veiny eyelids before darkness coats her sclera. Blood spills from her wrist as she carefully brings Dominique’s body to the patterned rug.

“I can assure you that your dear aunt has been put out of her misery.”

Isla snaps her traumatized eyes to Veda standing in the doorway of her bedroom. “Why are you here,” the former growls out. “I do recall a bargain we share. I have come to collect,” the latter replies. Isla shakes her head furiously. “I share nothing with you. You’ve been gone for two weeks so believe me when I say that was _plenty_ of time to reevaluate my awful decisions.” Veda steps forward, hands digging into the pockets of her beige trench coat.

“A fortnight has changed nothing, fledgling. I simply needed respite, a moment to reconcile the unsavory events I am certain you are now aware of.”

“Yeah. I know you ran away like a coward. The Queen required all nine coven leaders to report your whereabouts but obviously you’re just too good at hiding. That can only mean you’re not as powerful as you led everyone to believe.”

Veda offers a tight-lipped smile. “As of now your assessment is inexact. It is true that my magic was poached from me, however, I am not without strength. Unlike you I have kept my promise despite the many pitfalls within this journey. Your precious aunt, the perfect and worthy means to your mother’s end, is now unable to spill a word of lost history. And despite your treachery I too shall remain oblivious to the past. But…I’m not one to overlook shifty ways and truthfully I have not quite forgiven you for it. So, the hex that your late aunt has kindly passed on to you by my command will act as your final repayment.”

Isla clenches her jaw and looks down at Dominique lying peacefully in her arms. While tracing the stillness of the woman’s features she notices dark veins on her neck. Instinctively she looks to the site of her fresh wound and spots a black line already forming on her inner wrist. Veda tilts her head before presenting a tiny, clay organ-shaped jar. A skull rests on top of it while another one sticks to the side, looking upward. Both are bound by a black piece of cloth over the area where the mouth should be, and an obscure symbol is painted in red on the front.  

“You may mourn her once our unfinished business is settled. The sooner, the better due to your unfortunate circumstances.”

* * *

 

The loud chirping of birds finally pushes Rebekah over the threshold of consciousness. She inhales sharply before blinking her eyes open to the hazy glow emanating from the window. Like most mornings her lover is nowhere to be found yet she can still feel the ghost of the witch’s arms enfolding her frame. Luckily, her ears are picking up the drumming of footsteps coming from the connected bathroom, which means her target hasn’t gone far this time. She peels the sheets back diligently and slips out of bed before grabbing the silk, coral robe off a chair. While moving towards the cracked open door she maneuvers her way into the outer garment. Now at her destination she pushes the door open wider and takes a peek inside.

A visibly exhausted Bridget is settled on the edge of the clawfoot tub while administering one of her daily injections. After removing the needle from her skin she lowers her head in silence. “You know…you don’t have to stand there feeling sorry for me.” She peers up at Rebekah observing her sullenly and readjusts herself with a brave smile. “I can hear you a mile away.”

“Then you know how much it pains me to stand here unable to ease you of this.”

“It’s fine. I could be doing a lot worse right about now.”

Rebekah gauges Bridget for a moment, noting the pink satin cami and matching shorts hanging off her body slightly. She wordlessly pads over to pluck the syringe from the pureblood and returns it to its rightful place in a black case on the sink counter. After glancing over the medical tools she moves to perch herself beside Bridget, grabbing her arm to hold across her lap as she massages her tense muscles.

“It’s getting better. Each update Keelin makes, the less side effects I have to deal with. Maybe I just need a tropical vacation to fully reset.”

Rebekah offers a confident grin, up for the task. “Bora Bora or Tahiti? I hear the latter is just marvelous in Autumn,” she quips. Bridget grins with amusement. “Sign me up for Tahiti then,” she retorts. They both give in to the goofy banter with merriment. As their laughter gradually dies down Rebekah bites her lip. “One of these days you’re gonna let me show you the world. You deserve that and more.” Bridget examines her quietly. “Although I’m not opposed to you whisking me away to paradise, is this about your mission to save me,” she questions.

Rebekah tilts her head. “You’re not the one who truly needs saving.” She breathes in as the pureblood narrows her eyes. “Before you attempt the bloody mind tricks…I suppose I’ve been thinking about the possibility of finally being as free as my travels. If we were to leave for anywhere in the world tomorrow I don’t believe it would be about running away from something for once.”

“Two notorious runners suddenly not on the run huh? Sounds nice.”

Rebekah grins, partially serious. “Simply fantastic, but there is one matter. I don’t want to scare you away when it’s just us two out in the world,” she admits, self-conscious. Bridget knits her eyebrows while discerning the blonde. “You had your moments over the years but I’m pretty tough. Have I ever been one to scare easily?” Rebekah bores into the considerate orbs on her but hesitates to expose more of her vulnerabilities. “Hey. I’m currently facing a future where I could lose myself in the end. Nothing about you could scare me more than that. And I’ve seen enough to know the real you. There’s no one else I’d rather see the world with. So maybe I’m biased because I met _Rebekah_ at a small town bar before I met the vicious Queen Original.”

Rebekah gives Bridget a girlish smile and cradles her cheek. The witch closes her eyes at the touch before covering the vampire’s hand with her own. “Come back to bed,” the latter murmurs. Bridget opens her eyes and agrees to the gentle request with a nod. Rebekah rises to her feet first and pulls the younger woman up to stand before leading the way to the bedroom.

* * *

 

The front door to an industrial style apartment slowly opens wide revealing Sharon. She enters the home and cautiously shuts the door behind her as she wanders further into the loft. The layout is simple: large warehouse windows, dangling light fixtures, a mounted flat screen TV, a gold cart of liquor, and modern furniture to her right. On her left is the kitchen separated by a long, diagonal stainless steel counter with a roll of four chairs. Its surface is clear save for a coffee machine, a few empty glasses, and a neon purple flier with _MIRAGE_ printed on it in bold lettering.

Sharon scans the space before crossing over to the next room where her unmoving subject lies in bed. The inexplicable chill circulating the room nips at her skin as she examines the man. Drawing closer she notices a glossy film covering his eyelids and furrows her eyebrows in thought.

* * *

 

In the courtyard Jordan lies back on the couch, hidden behind a vintage leather book labeled _ORIGINS OF REALMS_. Several feet away Freya wearily tosses a soft felt ball to Mikaela who expertly catches it. “You’re a lot better at this than I was. We can thank Mommy for your impeccable hand-eye coordination.” The spiritless hybrid tosses the ball back to her drowsy mother.

“You didn’t have anyone to play with,” she surmises.

Freya gives her perceptive daughter a downhearted look before fiddling with the yarn holding the ball together. An uncharacteristic wave of heat infiltrates her body and she swallows thickly before continuing the monotonous game. “No. I didn’t.” Mikaela catches the ball and cradles it in both hands. “What about Auntie Bex and Uncle Klaus,” she asks curiously. Her mother presents a small smile in response. “ _Unfortunately_ they weren’t around yet, but it wasn’t always lonely. I did have a few adventures with your Uncle Finn. He would follow me anywhere.”

“He was your first friend,” Mikaela recalls, grinning. “Mhm,” Freya confirms with a nod. “And my very best friend. If he could be with us right now he would show you his favorite game. Make-believe.” Her child instantly perks up with excitement. “Can we play make-believe, Mama? Please?” Freya chuckles at the fervent begging. “Sure. Let’s see what we have in the toy chest.”

Mikaela races over to the old wooden chest and starts digging through its forgotten treasures. Following suit Freya lowers onto her knees beside her preoccupied daughter. As she tries to fight her unremitting fatigue the fever-like heat settles in her belly. With a sharp inhale and release she clutches her forehead.

**_Under the vivid moonlight Freya passionately attacks Keelin’s eager lips. The werewolf flips their positions within the thin sheets to gain dominance as she sets her soulmate’s skin on fire with blazing kisses. A tingling sensation trickles down to the pit of her stomach and she suddenly holds up her weight with uneasiness. Her eyes flicker gold and her canine teeth poke out from her lips before her fingernails extend into sharp claws. In an instant she’s rolling off her wife to sit on the edge of the bed. Confused by the wild retreat Freya sits up, still tangled in the sheets. “Keelin,” she breathes. The brunette reluctantly turns her head to gaze at the witch and finds herself entranced by the glowing emerald eyes meeting her own. “Freya, something’s happening.”_ **

“Mama!”

Freya drops her hand from her head as the fragment of a lost memory disintegrates. “Yes, baby girl?” She blows out a breath while eyeing the little girl beside her. “Do you want to play Pirates or House?” Freya tilts her head with a soft smile. “Hm…well you do always enjoy a good game of House,” she replies, earning a short nod.

“Okay. I can be the Mama and you’re the baby. You have to take your nap, so I can cook dinner.”

“Right now that is _more_ than fine with me.”

Mikaela climbs to her feet and tugs on Freya’s hand to help her up. Once they’re both standing the child leads her mother over to the other couch unoccupied by Jordan. “Time for your nap.” Freya lies down with a grin and shuts her eyes as Mikaela pets her hair soothingly. Footsteps echo throughout the courtyard signaling three pairs of eyes to a new arrival. A restless Keelin, donning blue scrubs, is ambling towards them with a black workbag hanging from her shoulder.

“Mommy!”

Mikaela abandons her game to sprint over to the wolf while Jordan closes her book and rises from the couch. Keelin bends down to hug her daughter and kisses her head before greeting her niece in the same manner. “Hey,” she chirps, chuckling. Freya approaches the trio and leans in to peck her wife’s lips. “How was work,” she asks, pulling away.

“The usual exhausting mess. Fifty shades of flu and the most embarrassing injuries I still can’t wrap my head around. But even with all the action from last night I’m more interested in what’s going on here. Explain why class isn’t in session with Auntie B?”

“Well, she seemed pretty worn down. I gave her the day off which gave _me_ the perfect opportunity to spend quality time with my little girl.”

Keelin tilts her head with a knowing grin. “Don’t tell me you got suckered yet again.” Freya raises her eyebrows, obviously guilty as her wife sighs. “Did you at least give her a worksheet, Mrs. Mikaelson?” The blonde smirks while slightly lifting her chin. “Even better. She explored a true Viking childhood. Board games, crafting, playing catch. That has to count for at least half of her school subjects,” she reclaims. Keelin gives her a disbelieving look.

* * *

 

Veda stands above a small dirt patch with the backdrop of the derelict Governor’s mansion. “Here. I feel my magical energy here.” She spins around to regard the jaded woman planted just behind her. “I suspect that this was the clever teamwork of one dedicated Viking and her faithful companion. Encasing my magic in an earthbound spell on land that no one would care to touch.”

“Good for you then. You found your magic on your own so why am I even here?”

“You will be the one retrieving the amulet. Was the reality of your servitude not clear?”

“Oh, this thing in my veins, hurting like a bitch? Yeah that’s very clear. But I’m sure your vampire boyfriend could get this done a lot faster.”

Veda tilts her head before looking out at the land. “Perhaps that is true. However, my first lesson in life was to never rely on the word of men. So I’ve left my dear James to his tireless machinations, but not without a fair share of dark objects. The witches of Haiti are indeed something fierce.” Isla rubs at her aching wrist. “Wow. Robbing your man blind on vacation. How… _you_ ,” she retorts, wincing. Veda settles her gaze on the coven leader with a smirk. “I understand how taxing it can be to fight the inevitable. Take heed of my counsel, fledgling. No spirited witticism will ease the misery claiming your soul. All you can do now is act in your best interest to preserve what’s left.”

* * *

 

“So…he really likes Buddha.”

Kayla peeks underneath the bottom of a bronze figurine before setting it down on a tall shelf. She glances at the nearby cart displaying various bottles of liquor. “And drunk poetry.” At a small table in the breakfast nook Sharon dutifully inspects a stack of books surrounded by empty bottles and glasses. Kayla turns to look at the quiet leader. “Not too strange for a werewolf huh?”

Two paramedics wheel the man’s body out from the bedroom on a stretcher. Sharon and Kayla watch them leave before gazing at each other. “There’s nothing here,” the former sighs. “No drugs, no phone, and therefore no contacts. There’s not even evidence of foul play. This makes no sense.” Her partner shortens the distance between them. “Logan Caban is up and doing good. All is not lost.”

“He’s devastated about his magic. Because of this _Whisper_ crap who knows when he’ll be able to practice again, _if_ he ever practices again. This is a person’s identity we’re talking about.”

“I’m fully aware of that. Look, drug activity has been decreasing so obviously someone’s on our side. The people, the parents, a superhero?”

Sharon takes a moment to think while biting her lip. “Omar’s activity has been lacking quite a bit for an heir to a legacy of crime. His traffic was basically nonexistent this week and then today, he didn’t even get out of bed.” Kayla folds her arms, listening intently. “I’m sure his father would be proud of the work ethic,” she jests. Sharon roams her eyes over the place before pausing at the large windows. She gaits over to them and looks out at the clear sky. After a while her gaze drifts down to the adjacent building where she notices a dark-haired boy watching her. “He was paranoid. But why would he be? He’s been smart about his dealings, just like his family was for decades.” She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Someone came for him.” The boy in the window disappears behind cerise curtains.

* * *

 

Josh casually whistles a tune while allowing himself into Bridget’s loft. After locking the door he stumbles upon an irritated Rebekah waiting in her opened robe. His eyes bulge cartoonishly at the exposed lingerie before he covers them in horror. “Oh my god! I did _not_ expect you to be here, fresh out of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue at that.”

“Well here I am. So what the hell are you doing here?”

“I do kinda have life or death pre-wedding plans according to Bridget. You know, the whole tradition of throwing a wild bachelor party is a thing. And apparently I have no say in it so…is she around or…?”

Rebekah treads over to Josh and snatches his hands from his eyes. “She’s fast asleep in bed and you won’t be ruining her much needed rest. Imagine not being allowed a single bloody moment to yourself without some unfailing crisis getting in the way. That is her life, Josh. Does she look like the goddamn savior of souls to you?” The bar owner gives her a slightly perturbed expression.

“Okay…calm down, Princess of Doom. Going all scary protective girlfriend on me is _so_ unnecessary when I can just come back later.”

Smirking, Rebekah considers him for a moment. “No need.” Josh quirks an eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanor but remains quiet. “I volunteer to help you with this party. I mean let’s be honest here, without the proper guidance it could show itself to be quite a travesty. And despite your needy presence I am up for the task if it means saving Bridget yet another burden.”

A mindful grin plays on the younger vampire’s lips as he begins to chortle. “Oh I see. You’re willing to use the witch you’re secretly dating as an excuse to be a total control freak.” The original raises her eyebrows drolly. “Well, either that or I could just personally see to your untimely demise out of utter boredom,” she retorts. Josh rolls his eyes and forces out a dramatic breath.

“Fine. Just save the death threats for party shopping alright? I want awesome deals.”

“Lovely,” Rebekah sings, satisfied.

* * *

 

In a dimly lit room Sharon sits on a floral sofa. Across from her is the timid boy seated in a vintage chair and a woman with dirty blonde hair standing to his right. “I’m sorry. I really do want to help you, but I don’t think he can tell you anything useful. He’s not your usual kid, wild imagination.” Sharon supplies a polite smile while clasping her fingers.

“That’s okay. I just need to know about anything he might’ve seen last night. At this point nothing’s useless,” she assures. The woman nods and looks to the boy before crouching down beside him. “If you saw anything it’s okay to tell Miss Vance.” The boy only stares at her silently before glancing at Sharon.

A phone suddenly rings, and the woman rises to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I need to get that. I’m on call.” Sharon nods in understanding. “Of course.” She watches as her host exits the room before tilting her head at the possible witness. “So, Danny. Do you think you might be able to help me out?” Danny chews on his bottom lip. “I…I don’t wanna get in trouble,” he speaks up.

Sharon shakes her head negatively. “I promise that you’re not in trouble. I just really need your help okay? I believe that you saw something very important and if I’m going to protect our city then I need to get every bit of information that I can. Do you understand, sweetie?” A conflicted Danny stares at her but ultimately peers down at his dangling feet. Sharon licks her lips. “I just want you to know that I believe you no matter what. I know what it’s like to feel…strange in the eyes of those around you. So, I’m here to listen to _anything_ you want to tell me okay?”

Slowly, the boy lifts his head to gaze at the consul earnestly. He receives an encouraging smile and finally complies with a nod. “Last night…when I couldn’t sleep…I did see something.” Sharon leans forward in her seat and patiently awaits the account as Danny grips the arms of his chair. “I saw the Sandman,” the latter reveals. The former furrows her eyebrows. “The Sandman,” she questions, receiving silent confirmation. “Why do you think it was the Sandman, Danny?”

“I _know_ he was the Sandman. He used his powers to put Omar to sleep. I think he used a song like in my book. He had a golden hourglass too and the sand became orange inside, like magic.” Sharon examines him closely. “Could you draw me a picture of the Sandman and his hourglass, since you’re so good at it,” she requests. Danny nods furiously as the consul smiles appreciatively.

* * *

 

“J’invoque l’élément de l’eau.”

Perched on a boulder Veda grows more disenchanted by the acres of a ravaged plantation. “I would much prefer my magic intact sooner rather than later, fledgling.” Isla ignores the dramatic sigh and continues to chant while hovering her palms over the designated site. “J’invoque l’élément de l’eau. J’invoque l’élément de l’eau.” Wet earth begins rising to the surface and culminates in a minor explosion before finally revealing a small wooden box.

Isla squats to recover the item. “Patience is a virtue. I did have to counter a strong earth spell bound by two powerful witches in case you forgot.” She straightens up and spins around to present the offering to Veda. “There. One ancient ring in exchange for my waning sanity. I should hear no more complaints since I can definitely feel your magic in here.”

Veda steps down from her provisional seat and comes over to accept the box from Isla’s hands. Suddenly overwhelmed with anticipation she cautiously opens the top to validate her success. Without wasting more time she reclaims her ring and tosses the box before slipping the jewelry onto her finger. Closing her eyes she clears her mind and begins mumbling an incantation. Her bones become invigorated by the intense energy streaming back into her body. She exhales in relief before opening her newly shimmering eyes.

“How wonderful it is to be revitalized.”

Isla holds her throbbing wrist to her chest. “Good. You feel like a whole new woman so heal me,” she demands, agitated. Veda tilts her head and swiftly brings the coven leader to her knees with telekinesis. “On the contrary, my feelings regarding your dishonor remain.” Her invisible grip tightens around her target’s neck. “And the magnificent inferno of vengeance has yet to subside.” A fire sparks within the pit of mud. “Shall I make this your burial ground whilst your lungs still breathe precious air? Or would it be worth it to watch as your affliction consumes you first?”

Isla struggles while grasping her neck until the pressure finally releases her. Gravity sends her hunching forward on her dirty palms as Veda lifts her chin. “Or perhaps I should display my more merciful side. I get the sense that you are still capable of proving yourself useful.” Isla tries to steady her breathing but chances a look up at the ruthless witch standing over her.

“Show me to my weapons. We have revenge to enact.”

* * *

 

With one hand Rebekah closes the back door of her SUV as she tucks a large box of beer under her opposite arm. Josh circles the other side of the vehicle, gripping multiple plastic bags with each hand. “I can’t believe I actually talked you out of the six thousand dollar catering idea,” he remarks. Rebekah uses her keychain to lock the doors as she struts ahead of him on the sidewalk.

“You may have overruled my vote on the chocolate fountain in favor of your precious _Cheetos_ , but I assure you not all of my suggestions will go unheard. Just you wait.”

“Hey, nothing that will land me in jail or worse…on the couch. I _am_ pretty psyched to get married tomorrow and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Relax, Josh. I’m sure that keeping your betrothed is no less difficult than maintaining your life. And you’ve done that to impressive results thus far. Besides, I would never wish for such misfortune at your expense. I know all too well the severity of a broken relationship.”

“Aww so you do care about me. Good to know that I’m more than a vampire shield in case of emergencies.”

Rebekah grins as they stroll along the stretch of buildings. Josh shakes his head in disbelief. “If we’re gonna keep hope alive for a brotp here then…I’m happy for you and Bridget. Who would’ve thought huh? Two _very_ different people that somehow work,” he ponders. “Well you know what they say, opposites attract.” They finally reach the front door to Bridget’s loft when Rebekah abruptly halts in her tracks to spin around. “But then again I’m not so sure we’re all that different.” She sighs exasperatedly. “Can I ask you something?” Josh nods with slight uncertainty.

“Uh…sure.”

“Earlier you used the apt but annoyingly precarious title of ‘girlfriend’ when referring to my relationship with Bridget. So, has she…said anything to you about it?”

Rebekah tilts her head softly as Josh eyes her with confusion. “What? Isn’t that supposed to come up at some point when you’re seeing someone exclusively,” the latter questions. “Honestly, the topic of labels has not really come up in conversation,” the former sighs out. “Between the family drama and our individual hindrances it seems easier to just… _be_ rather than to complicate matters with scant words and titles for the sake of laying claim to one another.” Josh arches an eyebrow while examining Rebekah. “But…you still want that title,” he surmises.

“Would it be such a bad thing if I did? I know what we mean to each other, I can feel it in every moment we spend together. But due to a lengthy history of placing my fragile trust in all the wrong people, I need clarity and reassurance. I don’t want to be pushy and scare her off though.”

Josh comes over to plant himself in front of Rebekah. “Hey. If it’s clarity you need then I can tell you how clear it is that Bridget wants to be with you. Sure she has the sad eyes and unattainable vibe going for her, but I know how much she wants the real deal. Maybe just try…bringing it up in a casual setting. You know, a no pressure type thing. Just roll with the punches, let her know how you feel about defining the relationship and everything will work out. If all else fails, just blurt it out like I did with my second boyfriend. Surprisingly that worked in my favor and saved me some embarrassment.” Rebekah offers a grateful smile. “Perhaps you’re not the dead weight I once thought you were,” she proclaims, good-natured.

“Yeah. Everyone would totally be so lost without me.”

“Well come along now. We do still have a wild soiree to prepare.”

Spinning on her heels Rebekah marches into the building prompting Josh to follow. They begin placing their groceries down on the coffee table, completely oblivious to Bridget materializing from the hallway in her pajamas. “Um…guys?” The two vampires put their task on hold to look at the frowning witch. “What exactly have you been up to during my hibernation?” Rebekah and Josh beam at her.

* * *

 

In the kitchen Freya quietly scrubs the traces of spaghetti sauce on a large ceramic plate. Her partner has long since abandoned the task of rinsing and drying the dishes, instead opting to lean on the support of the counter in deep reflection. “Things won’t be any easier the longer you keep it to yourself, I should know. And I understand why you haven’t told her but hiding things like this is not really your strong suit.” Keelin brings her gaze to Freya, appearing torn as she unfolds her heavy arms.

“How do I possibly explain this to her? How do I look my niece in the eye and tell her that her birth mother was tortured until she could barely recognize herself? You saw it, everything in her own words. Tell me that you can’t see the similarities here, Freya. I just don’t want to trigger something in her with this.”

The Viking grabs a towel to dry off her hands before turning to her concerned wife. “Then we tell her what she needs to hear. Her grandparents were strong witches that wanted to make a change in a time of darkness. They passed that strength on to their children and now it lives within her.” She shakes her head with a solemn expression. “We’ll keep that safe deposit box under lock and key. Jordan doesn’t need to know the details of Lucy’s downfall. All she needs to know is that she has a legacy beyond darkness.” Keelin bites her lip while staring into unyielding green eyes.

A brief moment passes before Jordan enters the kitchen, completely immersed in her phone. Upon tapping the screen one last time she comes to a stop and looks up at her guardians. “Hey, Aunt Keelin. Jasmine’s parents are going out of town and she’ll definitely lose it without me.” With a soft sigh Keelin readjusts herself to face the hybrid. “Well, she’s welcome to stay here until they get back. Not sure if a wedding is part of her weekend plans though.” Jordan presents her most persuasive smile. “Or…I can just stay over hers for the night. No last minute dress shopping needed.”

“Jordan…”

“ _Please_. Her parents used to let us stay home all the time without them. We’re responsible young adults, I swear.”

Keelin tilts her head with a commanding gaze. “Jordan, I wasn’t born yesterday. Two teenaged girls home alone on a Friday night usually leads to a variety of things that will worry me. You’re not missing the wedding tomorrow either. I’m sorry,” she finalizes. Jordan tilts her own head while pouting. Freya glances between the warring pair before inhaling softly. “What your loving aunt here means is that you remind her an awful lot of a girl she once knew. A girl who wasn’t particularly one to follow the law of the land when she was your age.” Her eyes fall on her disgruntled wife.

“Freya.”

“Keelin. She just wants to be with her friend for the night and the wedding won’t be until later. Certainly you can grant her one instance of a normal adolescence. Hm?”

“Wow,” Keelin utters, shaking her head. “Way to stand firm beside me.” Freya gives her a look just short of repentant before fixing her eyes to Jordan. “We trust you, but we also want you to be safe. So, we have some ground rules to cover regardless of what Jasmine’s parents have allowed in the past. _But_ …you can have your sleepover so long as we’re all on the same page okay?”

Jordan lights up and quickly nods. “Aunt Freya you’re my savior,” she proclaims. She moves to wrap her arms around the blonde’s waist tightly. “Thank you.” The embrace is warm but short-lived as Freya pulls back to give Jordan a reminder in the form of a stern look. The teen offers a hint of a nod before turning to Keelin. “I get why you don’t feel comfortable with me spending the night somewhere else but…everything’s okay. Okay?”

She waits for a response as the werewolf gazes at her silently, but when it fails to come she leans in to softly kiss her cheek. Pulling away she looks at both of her aunts while biting her lip. “I’m gonna go pack my bag. I love you guys.” Offering a content smile she spins around and checks her phone as she leaves the kitchen. Keelin brings her hand to her forehead just as a rumble tickles her thigh. Sighing, she digs into her pocket to grab her phone.

 

**BABY MIKAELSON**

_Seeing as I’ve compelled the perfect babysitter, I expect you to be in attendance tonight. If you could do me a favor and remind my dodgy sister that would be lovely._

 

Keelin peers up from her phone wearily. “Apparently your sister found us a babysitter for tonight. _So_ …we’re definitely not getting off the hook now,” she remarks. Freya exhales dramatically while leaning back against the sink. “Oh I wasn’t counting on it,” she retorts, folding her arms.

* * *

 

While lying back against a grey tufted headboard Jordan traces the outline of the ceiling. “Have you ever wondered what happens to a soul that isn’t consecrated,” she asks. At the opposite side of the bed Jasmine holds up a pair of black jeans to fold. “Um…not really. We’ve been taught since forever that if you died a New Orleans witch, you’re consecrated on New Orleans soil to join the Ancestors,” she responds.

“Yeah but…we’ve never been taught about the other possibilities have we? It took _how_ long for someone like Vincent Griffith to come and challenge tradition, false history?”

Jasmine rests the article of clothing on the bed to give Jordan a skeptical look. “Okay. What’s up with you? Why are you suddenly talking about this stuff,” the former questions. The latter positions herself upright and crosses her legs. “My parents weren’t consecrated. Neither was my birth mother and her parents. I know how much my dad hated magic, so it makes sense that he didn’t want his family with the Ancestors. But now…I’m the one left wondering if they found peace or not,” she expresses. Her friend tilts her head sympathetically.

“I’m sure they’ve found peace, Jordan. They had to.”

“Well I’m not a hundred percent sure on that and I never will be until I find out for myself.” Jordan tips over the side of the bed to grab a red duffel bag from the floor and drops it into her lap. She quickly unzips it and begins raking through her spare clothes until she uncovers an antiquarian book with unique symbols imprinted on its cover. She lifts it up and delves into its pages after setting her bag aside.

“I borrowed this from a family friend. It’s rare, only a few copies in the world but she’s loaded so…”

“You’re telling me,” Jasmine scoffs. “I think all the luxury cars we’ve been escorted in between your family members gave that away.” Glancing up Jordan sighs before shaking her head. “It’s still weird and unreal at times to be with them but…I can’t help the automatic connection to my aunt,” she admits. “She’s part of your pack. Right,” Jasmine voices.

Jordan finally lands on a desired page and tucks some curls behind her ear. “Yeah,” she confirms, slowly peering up. “Um, so the book has information on every type of plane in existence. Physical planes, spiritual planes, even artificial constructions and pocket dimensions. According to this my family is either in hell, at peace, or trapped in a never-ending void. Considering how my parents died, both sets that is, optimism looks pointless. But still…I have to know where they are.” Jasmine plops down on the bed, scrutinizing her friend with concern.

“Jordan. What exactly are you planning here? You know how dangerous it is to even try to locate souls let alone pull them from wherever they are. I mean trying to access the Ancestral Plane is enough trouble as is and you’re seriously considering all this?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start okay? And I know that I can’t do this on my own so don’t worry. But how would you feel if you were in my shoes, Jazzy? I can’t move on with my life and embrace this whole other part of me until I know they’ve found peace.”

Jasmine suddenly grabs Jordan’s hand to hold in her own. “I know. Mrs. T and Mr. D were my family too,” she affirms, tilting her head. Her troubled friend offers a bittersweet smile at the use of nostalgic nicknames. “But right now I’m worried about you. Can’t your family handle this?”

“Well…I have powerful witches at my disposal, but I can’t bother them with this. I’m kinda over all the heart to hearts and borderline pity.” Jordan shrugs and within seconds Jasmine is tugging her into a comforting hug. She holds the witch’s back while resting her chin on her shoulder and flitting her eyes up to the ceiling. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought an old book of magical geography. I’m officially the buzzkill.” Chuckling, Jasmine pulls back slightly. “Not entirely true. We can watch some movies and stuff our faces with junk food,” she proposes, earning a grin. “Or…we can drop by the party going on tonight. Taylor’s gonna be there.” She raises her eyebrows goofily as Jordan stares at her tentatively.

* * *

 

At the Warehouse Loft a party is in full swing. Nameless faces parade around a table for beer pong and chatter over red Solo cups while uninhibited bodies dance to the poppy song playing from two, tall speakers. Davina strolls in wearing russet high heel boots, light jeans, and a flowy crochet blouse. She scans her surroundings until she spots Josh being intercepted in the hallway by Rebekah and Bridget. Her lips curve into a delighted grin at the sight of the vampire. “Hey! So you’re throwing crazy parties without me now?” She flips her wavy locks over her shoulder as the trio all look in her direction with varying expressions of surprise.

“Davina?”

Josh ambles over to engulf the small woman in a bear hug. “Oh my god! I didn’t think you’d be in town,” he remarks, bemused. Davina pulls away from his arms, snorting as she tilts her head softly. “Josh, you’re my best friend in the entire world. I’m always going to be here whenever you need me. Kol is keeping things under control back in San Francisco so I hopped on a plane to surprise you.” Josh gives her a tipsy grin. “Well. I can’t tell ya how glad I am to see you,” he reclaims. The pair shares a heartwarming gaze before embracing again.

“I hope you have room for one more,” Bridget projects over the music. Josh and Davina pull apart to find the pureblood watching them alongside Rebekah, both fortified with red Solo cups. “For my sneaky accomplice? Of course I do!” The younger vampire steps aside in confusion as the two witches wrap their arms around each other. After a moment they separate with genuine laughter.

“By the way, I’m sorry about the break in communication. I might’ve indulged in a magically induced nap when my flight got delayed.”

“Wait. You two were in on this together?”

Bridget and Davina gradually fail at containing their excitement. “We came up with the idea a few days ago. And it’s a good thing too because my whole plan for this party was hijacked,” the former remarks. Josh turns to Rebekah who’s casually sipping her drink. “Let me guess. You were in on this too and our weirdly satisfying bonding time was all a lie,” he concludes.

“Actually, I wasn’t included as a co-conspirator. Nonetheless I suppose I proved to create quite the distraction. So now that we’ve all shared our pleasantries, how about that titillating dance for Josh?”

Immediately, Josh’s eyes bug out of their sockets. “Okay, how about I go show Davina around instead? Okay? Davina!” He grasps the witch’s hand and swiftly leads her away with flushed cheeks. “Josh! Seriously? What are we doing,” Davina questions. “We’re catching up before the strippers Rebekah hired catch up to me!”

As they disappear into the crowd of partygoers Rebekah and Bridget look at each other. “What a shame. I thought he would enjoy the sexy lumberjack theme,” the blonde quips. The pureblood shakes her head as a new guest appears beside her. “Hayden,” Rebekah greets animatedly. “Could I interest you in two very well-equipped lumberjacks? They were reserved for our blushing groom but now they’ve gone to waste I’m afraid.”

“I saw them on the way in and they don’t exactly float my boat. They’re lacking a few feminine attributes.”

“Someone doesn’t look like she’s in a partying mood,” Bridget chimes, astute. Hayden sighs with a disappointed look. “Well, Isla was supposed to be my date for tonight, but she cancelled on me last minute. She seemed…I don’t know. Cold.” The pureblood tilts her head empathetically. “Anything I can do? That hex is still on the table you know.” The bar owner shakes her head at the offer.

“Thanks but no thanks. I don’t need a guard dog, Bridget. It’s _okay_ ,” she reassures. “Well if you’re going to turn down a perfectly good hex…I just might have the somewhat benevolent means to cheer you up, love.” Hayden and Bridget look to Rebekah as she grants them a mischievous grin.

* * *

 

Sharon lowers a stack of two plates into the sink and shuts her eyes. As she meditates on her day the undeniable heat of another body closes in on her before a firm grip stiffens her shoulder. Within seconds soft lips press against her neck as the hand on her shoulder slides down the length of her arm. A faint sigh escapes her own lips in response. “You’ve been tense all night. What’s wrong?” Sharon rolls her neck before spinning around to face an observant Alex. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be present here with you _but_ …my mind is with work. I just can’t stop thinking about what happened today,” she confesses.

The werewolf grips both of the consul’s hands. “Hey. You don’t need to be sorry. Even the Queen has off days,” he jests, earning a tired smile in response. “I’ve been a bit stressed out too, over this masterpiece I’m working on. But you know what? I’m not willing to let that or _any_ other type of work ruin this little date night streak we got going. So if you need to talk then I’m all ears.”

His lover examines him quietly. “You told me that you still have ties to the streets, through kids and old friends,” she recounts. Alex raises his eyebrows and releases an incredulous laugh before nodding. “Uh…yeah. I’m still aware of the conditions out there and I can tell you now that the streets want no part of your case, Sharon. That’s just the reality of the situation,” he declares.

“What if there’s something deeper happening? Right now?”

“Like what?”

Sharon shakes her head urgently. “I don’t know. A precursor to a monopoly or the work of a determined vigilante. Drugs are mysteriously slowing down but I know that Whisper is still out there for now. Maybe the mastermind behind it is finally wiping out any and all competition,” she theorizes. Alex furrows his eyebrows. “How can you be so sure,” he questions.

“Because I’m not naïve.”

Sharon moves past the artist, en route to the living room. “I believe there’s someone taking out noteworthy drug dealers. I’m just not clear on the motive yet,” the former states. Her lover follows her with piqued interest and stops as she sifts through a folder on the coffee table. She finally locates a paper and holds it up to his view. “Last night I was running surveillance on Omar Correa, but I missed the encounter that placed him in a mysterious coma. A little boy in the neighboring building happened to see it and this was the visitor he saw.”

Alex stares at Sharon before taking the paper from her hand. He’s confronted with a neat colored pencil drawing of a man in a black trench coat choking his victim while raising a gold hourglass in the air. “Obviously this has to be a witch, either for hire or one with a personal vendetta,” the consul states. The wolf peers up from the drawing. “The boy called him the Sandman.” The pair gaze at each other silently.

* * *

 

Freya and Keelin enter the Warehouse Loft hand in hand before standing in a clear zone. “I love Josh and I’m all for celebrating his happiness but we’re going home the first chance we get,” the latter attests, scoping out the scene unfolding. “Who’s paranoid now,” the former quips, earning an incredulous look from her wife. “I’m not paranoid. And sorry if I’m questioning our integrity. We left our daughter with a perfect nanny that was hired against her will and _you_ just had to play the cool aunt to score points with Jordan.”

“Well what’s the point in having original vampires for siblings if I don’t take full advantage of the perks? And judging by my marks today I’m not the one who needs to get into Jordan’s good graces.”

“Who even are you right now? Apparently not my overprotective badass of a wife.”

Freya tilts her head seriously. “Mikaela and Jordan are safe. I made sure of it. So let’s just try to have fun alright,” she requests. “Fine, alright. This is me putting on my _fun_ shoes,” Keelin reclaims grudgingly. Rebekah approaches them with two red Solo cups in each hand. “Lovely. I was beginning to think I’d have to defuse a petty lovers’ quarrel,” she remarks, lifting the drinks. “And I’m much too liquored up at the moment.” Josh staggers over to join them, taking up residence beside the original. “I second that. I even gave up on hiding from the super ripped strippers,” he adds. Keelin grins at the ridiculousness, shooting an amused Rebekah a lighthearted glance. Kima emerges from behind with a dark green liquor bottle on display.

“Hey, Josh! I just wanted to _personally_ congratulate you with a bottle of…” She turns the bottle to herself and takes a glimpse at the label before offering it to Josh again. “ _Laurent-Perrier_. Ooh…clearly I’m not a champagne type of gal but it sounded fancy and cost me just under a hundred bucks.” The vampire cautiously accepts it with eyes like saucers.

“Whoa. You totally didn’t have to but thank you. I’ll definitely put it in a safe place for my inevitable freak-out tomorrow.”

“Don’t mention it. But you _could_ kinda help me out by directing me to Bridget. I want to show my face, let her know I kept my word about coming.”

Josh nods accordingly and begins surveying the area. “Umm…oh there she is probably challenging the DJ’s picks as we speak.” He points out the pureblood, red Solo cup in hand, as she’s talking to a man in a blue cap. Kima licks her lips before grinning. “Thanks.” She wordlessly leaves the group to sneak up on her target, choosing to lightly tap her on the shoulder. An unsuspecting Bridget turns around and instantly brightens when she sees Kima standing there. They both share what appears to be a hearty laugh before embracing blissfully.

Rebekah narrows her eyes while Freya and Keelin playfully raise their brows, watching the cozy pair. “So…when did that happen,” the witch asks. “To this day Bridget stands by her claim that only _art_ was made between them,” Josh proclaims. Keelin laughs in pure disbelief. “That’s the girl responsible for painting Bridget in her birthday suit,” she asks. “ _Yup_ ,” Josh confirms simply. Freya widens her eyes at the new information and Rebekah begins chugging one of the drinks in her hands.

* * *

 

In a moderately crowded kitchen Jasmine practically chugs her drink before exhaling with a sour expression. “How did they manage to make strawberries taste like death,” she ponders. Jordan gives her a stoic look before taking the blue Solo cup from her hand and tossing it in the trash. “So much for _dropping_ by. Can we just go home now?” Her friend tilts her head incredulously.

“We’ve been here for like twenty minutes. I thought you wanted to get your mind off things and have fun.”

“Yeah, have _fun_. Not subject my sensitive ears to crappy music while slowly but surely becoming your designated driver.”

Jasmine looks at her slightly guilty. “Here’s your chance to finally try out the _Hyundai_ ,” she drawls shamelessly. With a roll of her eyes Jordan shakes her head. “One hour. But that’s all you get Jazzy,” she states firmly. The witch beams, reveling in the successful negotiation. “I love you,” she proclaims wondrously. “I know,” the hybrid sighs out.

At the front of the house Patrick maneuvers his way through the sea of teenagers. Looking around he spots a hooded figure observing the party from the stairs and marches over to stand in front of them. “Your creeper mode is showing, Freddie.” The figure peers up at the vampire slowly before removing his grey hood to reveal an attractive young man with long light brown locs.

“Patty, my old friend. Just couldn’t resist the festivities huh?”

“Hmm. Feeding on fresh witch blood isn’t one of my pastimes so I would say no, I’m pretty resistant.”

Freddie grins while shaking his head. “Still too _honorable_ for your own good I see. Not too honorable to reject my invite though,” he reclaims. Patrick tilts his head, austere. “I’m here to establish an alliance. And I plan on sealing the deal in ten minutes easy,” he declares confidently. “You expect me to get freethinking nightwalkers falling in line with your king? Gonna take more than that pretty face on top of a moody personality to sale me the fantasy, Patty.” Patrick throws out a hand from his pocket to check his watch. “Alright. Let’s say fifteen minutes tops.” Freddie lifts his chin with pleasure.

* * *

 

Under the hazy blur of bright lights Rebekah spectates the enduring guests swaying in sync. Her awaiting lips find the rim of a plastic cup allowing a steady stream of burning liquid to cascade onto her tongue. By now she’s lost count of just how many drinks she’s downed in her quest to erase a free-spirited artist from existence. Just as her blood begins to boil at the mere thought of the stranger she spots Bridget gazing at her from across the room. The witch cheerfully beckons her over with an insistent hand gesture. Rebekah grins widely and sets her cup down on the nearby table, but to her dismay Bridget is abruptly diverted by none other than Kima. Her features contort into palpable frustration right as Davina obscures her view.

“And here is…Rebekah, sulking it looks like.”

The brunette is holding up her phone to her face with amusement. Rebekah frowns until she’s greeted by Kol’s wicked smirk on the repositioned screen. “My dear little sister. What could possibly have you down in the dumps right now? Your work appears to be playing out well and nice.” The blonde tilts her head, still bothered.

“Hi, Kol. Why are you pestering me from the safe distance of your devious wife’s cell phone,” she inquires halfheartedly.

“My _lovely_ wife was kind enough to broadcast all the fun I’ve been forced to miss.”

“Well, I do wish you could be here. At the very least it would never be a drag.” Kol offers a nod of agreement. “Maybe next year. The spiteful twit inside us can’t hold onto a petty grudge forever now can she,” he weighs up. Rebekah finally provides a candid smile. “I suppose not. Let’s make that a wish for bonfire season,” she recommends, hopeful.

Somewhere in the crowd of people Keelin holds Freya’s arm up in the air to spin her around slowly. The witch rolls her eyes and the werewolf giggles before pulling her in close. They rest their foreheads together while grinning from ear to ear. “Having fun yet?” Keelin bites her lip to suppress her obvious joy and pulls back a little to peer into Freya’s sparkling eyes.

“Enough with the gloating. I get it, you were right. We definitely needed this time with our friends and so does Jordan. I want her to be a normal kid but it’s just _hard_ not to keep her so close. Ever since I laid eyes on her it’s been my instinct to protect her from everything.”

“You wouldn’t be _you_ if you didn’t want to protect her from everything. She’s family, your _blood_ , and I know how much you love her Keelin.”

Keelin tilts her head, inspecting Freya through hooded eyes. “And do you know how much I love you, Mrs. Mikaelson,” she inquires softly. The Viking feigns ignorance while lifting her chin. “Hm, let’s see,” she ponders. “You might just have to tell me, Dr. Mikaelson.” In a sly move Keelin spins Freya around to lean back into her and perches her chin on the blonde’s shoulder.

“We’re about to find someplace quiet where I can _show_ you instead.”

The low growl of the wolf excites Freya as she recognizes the heat building inside of her. “I like the sound of that. As long as we won’t be making out in the bathroom of course.” Keelin teasingly pinches the witch’s hips before guiding her forward. “ _Very_ romantic huh?” They laugh as they move past the drunken partygoers, nearly colliding with Hayden head on.

All three women jolt to an awkward stop while staring at each other. “Hayden,” Freya breathes. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Keelin releases the witch to stand at her side, presenting a tentative smile. Hayden lifts her red Solo cup slightly. “Yeah. I don’t know Josh all that well, but Rebekah invited me. Or should I say harassed me with all those mass texts,” she remarks.

Freya offers a knowing smile. “Same reason I’m here. Josh and I aren’t exactly friends, but he’s grown on me I suppose,” she admits plainly. Hayden smiles back and slowly turns her head to acknowledge Keelin. “Hi,” she greets. The wolf gives her a small wave. “Hi. Are you enjoying New Orleans,” she asks, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“Uh, actually I am. Beautiful city, interesting people. So…yeah it’s been fun.”

“Great,” Keelin replies, nodding politely.

“Give it one more day. You’ll find it hard to leave behind the old charm,” Freya attests. The nostalgia of her words suddenly tug at the resentment buried deep within her former lover. Hayden releases a sardonic chortle and shakes her head. “Yeah.” She throws back some of her drink and begins trooping past the married couple. “Excuse me.” On reflex Freya grasps the brunette’s arm, unwittingly giving herself a case of whiplash in the process.

“Hayden.”

“I’m fine, Freya. Enjoy the party.”

Gently, Hayden repossesses her arm and disappears into the shuffling crowd. Freya stumbles back a little until Keelin steadies her. “That is the first and _last_ time we attempt to hold a conversation past ‘hello’. What was that all about,” the wolf queries. Her wife lowers her head while sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m not sure,” she sighs, wobbly. “Hey. Freya, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little lightheaded. I think I’ve reached my limit on big girl drinks tonight.” Keelin grins at the Viking knowingly. “Let’s find somewhere to sit down, lightweight. And if you feel the urge to reacquaint yourself with dinner I will stick by my vow to hold your hair back.” Without another word she secures an arm around Freya’s midsection and leads her in search of temporary refuge.

* * *

 

Jordan mindlessly scrolls through her phone as Taylor plops down beside her on the brown couch. He sighs in relief, inciting her to peer up from the screen. “Um…are you okay there,” the hybrid asks, regarding the goofily grinning boy. “I’m great,” the witch responds. Jordan arches an eyebrow while inspecting him. “You’re drunk.” Taylor sniggers. “Actually I’m buzzed, big difference.”

“Right. _Big_ difference.”

Taylor licks his lips. “So, how come you’re not drinking? It’s not that bad once you get past how…bad it is.” Jordan shakes her head with a short chuckle, earning a smile from her friend. “Yeah…it’s pretty bad,” the latter concludes. “The disgusting taste is only one part of it,” the former speaks up. “Unlike you I have a Malraux wolf just waiting to send me back to therapy and I’m trying not to give her any reasons. That aside it’s not like I’ve ever felt the need to try it. It didn’t help my dad when he separated from my mom so how could it do any good for me?”

Taylor gives her a sullen look of understanding. “I’m sorry, Jordan.” In response he receives a halfhearted smile. “It’s okay, Taylor.” The teenagers stare at each other momentarily. “Jordan, I…I have something to tell you. Can we go somewhere else?” Jordan licks her lips and nods accordingly before Taylor stands up to extend a hand to her. She accepts the offer and is pulled up to her feet before being led towards the stairs. Unbeknownst to the pair Aniya watches them retreating while angrily drinking from her blue Solo cup. Once upstairs they enter an open bedroom and scan their surroundings before facing each other. “Taylor…” The male witch steps closer to the hybrid. “Jordan. Just let me say this before I don’t get the chance again.” His request is instantly met.

“You know I care about you, a lot.” He shuts his eyes and exhales. Jordan grabs his hand to ease him, attempting to gauge the sudden frustration. “You’re scaring me, Tay. What is it,” she questions, worried. Her friend finally opens his eyes to gaze into her own. “I’ve always cared about you, Jordan. I just never thought I stood a chance. I know you’re going through a lot and I don’t wanna make that worse I just…I just wanna be there for you. I’ll always be there for you because I love you, Jordan. And I can’t just be your friend. I want more.”

Jordan parts her lips, suddenly finding herself speechless and after a few seconds Taylor slowly moves in. He takes his time waiting for any sign of opposition, but she fails to move, instead closing her eyes just before their lips finally meet. She reciprocates the gentle touch until the faint taste of alcohol throws her out of the moment. She hastily pulls away, shaking her head as her eyes flutter open. “I’m sorry but I don’t want to be more than friends. I can’t.” Taylor blinks a few times and steps back as Jordan tilts her head, eyes pleading. “Taylor, I’m sorry. If I could…”

“Don’t alright? I understand.” Taylor slips his hands out of Jordan’s hold before critically turning around to escape the situation. Rattled with confusion, Jordan wraps her arms around her body and drops onto the edge of the bed. _What just happened_?

* * *

 

At the somewhat crowded game table Bridget tosses a ping pong ball towards a red cup taunting her from the other end. As expected she falls just short of the goal and huffs in a child-like manner. “See. I suck!” Kima moves from beside the witch to take root behind her, presenting another ball. “No, you just need form. Here.” Bridget accepts the object and allows Kima to grasp her wrist for direction. One of their polo clad opponents groans at the other end of the table. “We’re in the middle of a game here,” he complains, annoyed.

“Pipe down. We can abandon the rules for a second,” Kima remarks before focusing on her student. “Okay, try now.” As soon as she lets go Bridget tosses the ball and they watch in anticipation as it lands in the targeted cup. Spectators and confused bystanders roar with applause as the pair cheers before jumping into an overly affectionate hug. “Oh come on,” the opponent whines.

Rebekah sashays through the partying crowd, inadvertently catching a glimpse of the two excited women. Against her better judgement she begins marching over to them as her jealousy achieves an all-time high. “Bridget,” she calls, gaining the attention of her lover. A tall, attractive man comes up to enclose his arms around Kima from behind and the artist gasps before spinning around to kiss him. Rebekah slows to a halt beside Bridget with a puzzled expression as Kima turns to them, grinning widely. “Bridget. This is my boyfriend, Devon. Devon. This is my impromptu muse, Bridget.”

Devon extends a hand with a charming smile. “It’s nice to finally meet the inspiration behind the artwork,” he states graciously. Raising her eyebrows, Bridget shakes his hand politely. “Well this isn’t awkward in the slightest. I feel like I should apologize or something,” she quips. The man chuckles as she turns to the blonde at her side. “This is…”

“The girlfriend. I’m Rebekah.”

Both Bridget and Kima widen their eyes in surprise as Devon offers a hand to Rebekah without missing a beat. “Nice to meet you,” the man greets. The vampire tilts her head while gladly accepting the firm handshake. “The pleasure is all mine,” she returns, grinning. Bridget awkwardly looks between them. “Good. We’ve all finally met. You guys should check out the party together while we go handle something.” An uncertain Kima nods accordingly with Devon before the witch grabs onto Rebekah’s hand to lead her through the crowd. After they reach the guest room Bridget allows the blonde in first before following and closing the door behind them. Spinning around she presents a humorous expression.

“So…the girlfriend huh?”

“Do you have any feelings for Kimmy, the cute art school reject?”

Bridget knits her brows. “No. What,” she questions, dumbfounded. Rebekah shrugs. “Then yes, I am your girlfriend. We go on adorable little dates in the Quarter. We cook bloody five star meals for one another in hopes of being rewarded more affection because somehow, it’s never enough. I’m fairly confident that we’ve seen every classic there is to see due to our movie nights, and we never grow tired of the late night conversation. Distance itself has proven to be of no threat to what we share.”

She holds out a hand towards the bed. “I have the left side of your bed because you insist on shielding me from that relentless beam of sunlight that springs into your window each morning. You care for me as if I’m not one of the strongest beings ever to walk this earth, capable of ruining you and the things you love. You’ve held me through so many nights, listened to every thought in my mind, and kissed away the traces of pain I hadn’t realized were left.”

She pauses with a soft smile. “You’ve given me the loveliest song. Undeniable comfort, a glimpse of true happiness. And you’ve held my hand in the darkest moments, unafraid of consequence. In a thousand years I can only recall but a few times I’ve felt so…human. I’m addicted to that feeling you give me, Bridget. So I need reassurance that you’re in this with me. I need that title no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

Bridget beholds her, quietly absorbing the profound speech. Rebekah licks her lips anxiously. “I wanted to avoid cornering you like some beguiled schoolgirl, but I suppose it’s just in my nature to be the ever hopeless romantic.” She slowly casts her gaze to the floor until her lover moves to cradle her face. “You’re _not_ hopeless. And you’re not cornering me either. I’ve been waiting for the right time to bring this up, but I guess I was feeling too insecure about it. I mean the days of simply checking off yes or no are over.”

Rebekah offers a small smile of relief. “Don’t be so sure there’s not an app for that,” she quips. Amused, Bridget grins while searching bright, ocean eyes. “How I feel about you can’t easily be explained but you make me feel human too. For a long time I’ve felt like damaged goods, like I didn’t deserve a decent life or someone by my side. You worry about ruining me but you’re constantly finding new ways to heal me. I’m the destroyer with fire and rage in my blood remember?” Rebekah plants her hands to Bridget’s back, listening intently.

“But I want to be with you, Rebekah. I want to let myself have this for once, something good to hold onto. I want to finally be happy. With _you_. You’re the person that has taken endless care of me, the one that has never given up on me no matter how much I push. So if you’ll have me, I’d love to be your very happy girlfriend. I’m all in.”

Rebekah breaks out into a jovial smile showing every tooth imaginable. Bridget reflects her perfectly, marveling at the sight before tenderly pressing their lips together. Gentle hands run up her back as they savor the moment, floating away on cloud nine. Finally, after an endless display of their uncontained emotions they separate to gaze at one another.

“Now that that’s done, I’d love to know where Kimmy showcases her work. _Perhaps_ …that risqué painting of my darling girlfriend.”

Bridget tilts her head, smirking. “You mean Kima. And since when do you care about art,” she questions, good-natured. “I’ve always been fascinated by fine art. I can assure you it’s my current life obsession,” Rebekah proclaims, chin raised. She chuckles at the lighthearted eye roll from her girlfriend before an explosive noise rocks the loft. They share a worried glance and hurry for the door.

* * *

 

Jordan quickly makes her way down the stairs and hunts for Jasmine in the living room. The space has cleared out a bit giving her a decent view of the primarily wasted guests. Most of them are standing around talking while others recline on the couches and chairs. “Dammit, Jazzy.” Jordan mutters under her breath as she decides to check the kitchen. However, on the way there Aniya plows right into her, purposely spilling a drink all over her clothes.

“Seriously,” she roars, glaring. Her antagonist tilts her head, shrugging with nonexistent remorse. “Now you’re just as dirty on the outside. Jordan, the desperate slut hooking up with the first guy that shows her some attention.” Jordan trembles as the beast inside threatens to claw its way to the surface. With a deep breath she pushes past Aniya to continue her search, but she’s caught by the arm aggressively. “Don’t walk away from me,” the witch yells. Before she can stop herself Jordan twists around and hits Aniya with enough force to send her tumbling to the floor.

Onlookers erupt into chaos, effectively acquiring the attention of other partygoers. Horrified, the hybrid gapes at the injured witch cowering below her before hurrying towards the door. She tries her best to block out all the screaming and watchful eyes on her, consequently crashing into Patrick who holds her steady. “Let me go stalker!” The vampire frowns but refuses to appease her.

“You’re freaking out right now, so I’ll humor you. I saw your friend outside with some has-been. We can round her up and get you both home. Okay?” Struggling to maintain her breathing Jordan submits quickly with a nod. “You’re gonna be okay, Jordan. Just breathe. Focus on me alright?” Patrick rubs her arms to soothe her as she exhales slowly, peering into his dark eyes helplessly.

* * *

 

In the safety of her bed Jasmine sleeps soundly on her side. Jordan tugs the grey covers up under the witch’s arm until she’s satisfied and stands back to observe her. “Just keep an eye on her. She’ll be alright.” Turning around she finds Patrick extending a blue bucket to her and reaches out to grab it. “Thanks. For driving us home and helping me. With her I mean. You didn’t have to.”

The vampire lifts his chin quietly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “It’s no big deal. I’m just glad you’re both okay. But for future reference, don’t ever go to random kickbacks in the Quarter. They’re usually orchestrated by nightwalkers who love a good witch smoothie.” Jordan snorts, incredulous. “Noted. As you can see here this wasn’t exactly my ideal night to begin with. I was only looking out for a friend,” she replies.

“Yeah. I see that.”

They stare at each other longingly until Patrick finally clears his throat. “Well, I should head out and go get my bike. Think you can handle things from here, delinquent?” Jordan rolls her eyes, slightly humored. “Sure, Mr. Cuddly.” Her acquaintance chuckles at the comeback and walks over to the open balcony door.

“I know you’re not really a stalker so is this gonna be a thing for us? Wrong place, wrong time. You witnessing my embarrassing hybrid rage.”

Halting his steps, Patrick turns slightly to offer Jordan a rare grin as she bites her lip. “Me personally? I hope not. It would be a nice change of pace to catch you at a good time. Maybe you should send that into the universe,” the vampire suggests. He receives a coy smile in response and winks before disappearing in a flash. The curtains flow in the breeze, presenting the only evidence that he was ever in the room. Now confronted with the silence Jordan taps her fingertips on the bucket in her possession and turns to Jasmine before sitting at her bedside.

* * *

 

In the courtyard Freya lies across Keelin’s lap on the couch, eyes closed as the wolf gently pets her golden locks before kissing her forehead sweetly. Bridget and Rebekah tramp into the compound hauling duffel bags and wheeled suitcases. The dampened sight of them is almost pitiful. “I can’t believe a couple of witches torched your home,” Keelin remarks as the couple stops before her.

“Witches confined to one space with unlimited booze is clearly a bad combination. The building is still standing but barely intact, so we salvaged what we could. I guess I’ll be getting sucked into French Quarter life after all,” Bridget informs, exhausted. “Aren’t we happy to be one big unlucky family again,” Rebekah chimes in.

“Oh for sure,” Keelin agrees, jokingly pursing her lips. “The circumstances are _extreme_ , but I can’t say I’m not glad to have you back here, B.” Bridget summons a warm smile. “Well I’m glad to be back. Is Freya okay though? I can whip up a hangover cure in no time,” she insists. “That won’t be necessary,” Freya chirps without opening her eyes.

Sighing, she pulls herself up from Keelin’s lap and runs a hand through her messy hair. “I’m fine. At the time it felt like my _worst_ nemesis but apparently the diagnosis is exhaustion and acute motion sickness.” Three pairs of eyes examine her closely. “Or perhaps Josh’s spirituous concoction is the root of all evil,” Rebekah quips. Freya, Keelin, and Bridget all nod while chuckling in agreement. “It was pretty awful,” Freya remarks. “Hell yeah,” Bridget agrees through fits of laughter. Rebekah and Keelin enjoy the banter freely with content grins.


	9. The Long Kiss Goodnight Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gathers in support of Josh on his wedding day as personal issues arise; Veda prepares for her revenge; Sharon falls deeper into the Sandman's rabbit hole as Alex struggles to regain control of his business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So clearly the drama is in abundance on this particular day which is why there will be two parts. For once I was really satisfied with the action sequences so I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing haha. That's more so for Part II though so for this particular chapter I hope the family bonding and togetherness is fulfilling. There will also be a bit more of that in the next part too. Enjoy!
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Nina Nesbitt - Somebody Special: Rebekah and Bridget enjoy their morning together.
> 
> 2) Sugar Pie DeSanto - Soulful Dress: Hayley arrives at the compound, Freya tries on her dress for the wedding.
> 
> 3) Valerie Broussard - A Little Wicked: Veda and Isla talk about the plan; Sharon does a spell at Omar's apartment.
> 
> 4) Richard Walters - Already Home: Hayley and Rebekah talk; Josh and Liam recite their vows.
> 
> 5) The Ceremonies - Lovecaught: Josh's Wedding Reception Part 2.
> 
> 6) Hollow Coves - Ran Away: Josh's Wedding Reception Part 3.
> 
> 7) Billie Eilish - Ocean Eyes (Astronomyy Remix): Josh's Wedding Reception Part 4.
> 
> 8) Nick Kingswell - Undertow: Sharon searches for her grimoire; Freya waits for the results of her pregnancy test.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

“This is my masterpiece.”

In the middle of his office, Alex stands at an easel swirling a cyclone of cerulean paint onto the canvas. “As of now it’s tainted by these…deep blues.” Slowly, he rotates to face the men lined up behind him. “Now don’t get me wrong. Blue is a beautiful color. Cold, calm, and cerebral. I do some of my best thinking with this palette. _But_ …”

He holds his paintbrush up to attentive eyes. “This is not the mood I’m set on. I want the deepest, most powerful shade of red there is to change this city. You all know that progress has been impeded by an unforeseen force and I am intent on erasing whatever it is. For the foot soldiers I’ve lost in such a short amount of time and even for my fellow visionaries. I mean, what is growth without a little competition?”

Alex snaps his fingers and the henchman beside him reaches down into a mysterious box on the floor. No one flinches as a severed head is revealed, dripping blood as the henchman holds it up by its short brown hair. Their leader gestures a hand to his ruthless presentation. “I’m looking for a witch. One capable of turning wolves into brain dead vegetables and scaring off some of _the_ toughest men these streets have ever known. This man here was a rival competitor who made friends with too many out-of-town witches for my liking. He sold drugs with the opposite effect of Whisper, which we’ve come to realize is _not_ the future. So naturally, I jumped to the conclusion that he must have acted on his jealousy. Breaking alliances, dishonoring territories, and eventually targeting his more successful peers. But no.”

He waves his paintbrush in the air. “I was wrong. And unfortunately for him it was too late to apologize for my mistake. The point I’m making is this. I won’t allow my empire to crumble for anyone, any reason, and anything. I will do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine. And if any of you care about your lives, the lives of your families, and your thriving _livelihood_ …you will go out there and find me the _right_ head to put in my trophy case. Have I made myself clear on the primary goal here?” All the men nod their heads accordingly.

Alex lifts his chin. “Thank you. Now get to it. Our friend Paul should be sending you the rough facial composite of this witch. While we’re working on the profiling I expect eyes searching every corner of this city and arms protecting what’s left of my dealers. You’re dismissed.” He allows the group to file out of the office before turning to his henchman. Reaching out, he holds his paintbrush underneath the severed head to catch some droplets of blood. Then he spins around to begin dragging it across his canvas.

“I’ve got a Sandman’s dream to crush.”

* * *

 

The steadily ascending sun peeks in from the balcony, casting a dreamy tangerine glow over the room. At the foot of the bed Bridget slips into her honey, suede Chelsea boots. When her task is completed she rests her hands on her thighs, exhaling softly while admiring the early morning sunrise. For a moment she listens to the ambient sound of water running before pushing herself up to her feet and sauntering into the connected bathroom. Billows of steam cloud her eyes as she approaches the shower and taps on the foggy glass.

“Hey. I’m heading out.”

Suddenly the waterflow is cut and the thick, white towel overhead slips into the shower. Within seconds the door opens to exhibit Rebekah securing the towel around her body. “Already? I had plans for a marvelous breakfast, just us two.” Bridget smiles adoringly. “I won’t have much time to find a new outfit for the wedding, pick up Davina, _and_ help Josh all before this afternoon if I let you spoil me now, princess.”

“Well, it was only a delectable two course breakfast at Brennan’s on the menu. I hardly see how that would qualify as spoiling you.”

Bridget chuckles while shaking her head. “You never quit do you?” Rebekah grins happily before resting a palm on the witch’s cheek. “I just hate letting such precious moments go to waste is all. Last night didn’t feel like quite enough,” she admits, caressing her skin with a thumb. Bridget grabs onto the blonde’s hand and places a soft kiss on her palm before tilting her head.

“I know. I don’t want to leave this room either but once the weekend craziness is over we’ll have plenty of time. So until then…” She draws her girlfriend in and snakes her arms around her body. “You can think about more practical activities for us. Nothing too fancy, over the top or outrageously expensive. I don’t need nonstop extravagance with you alright?”

“If only you were this modest with your witchy collection.”

“Ouch, shots fired. Those things have longevity you know. Just wait until you’re in desperate need of the help they can provide.”

Rebekah gives Bridget a suggestive look. “At the moment I only need what you can provide…” The pureblood smirks knowingly just before the vampire captures her lips in a sultry kiss. Not long after they slowly pull apart, feeling weightless while staring at each other. “Stop it. You’re getting my clothes all wet. Which reminds me, you showered in my room instead of your own.”

“Yours is better, more serenely nostalgic. It’s the only bath untouched by Freya’s revisions,” Rebekah expounds, sharp-witted. Bridget arches an eyebrow. “You really thought this through,” she gathers, partly unsurprised. “I doubt anyone will notice my bathing quirks and habits but yes, I am prepared for any suspicions,” the Mikaelson assures.

“Well nice, _completely_ unsuspicious explanation. I have to go but I’ll see you at the wedding okay?” Rebekah nods correspondingly. “See you there,” she confirms. Bridget offers a sweet grin before releasing her and turning away to leave the bathroom. With an identical grin the original vampire watches her departing girlfriend.

* * *

 

In her office, Sharon pulls a folder from the black storage box on top of her desk. Her ear is pressed to her phone as she peels the file open. “Yeah, I’m still looking. I narrowed a possible person of interest down to three male witches, all specialized in sleep spells. The only problem is they’re all dead, the last one being fifteen years ago,” she informs, disillusioned.

A sigh filters in through the line. “Well, at least you got farther than me. I can’t find anything on a gold, mystical hourglass with orange sand in the archives. My coven goes back centuries but if this object isn’t from New Orleans this will be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Kayla states. Sharon skims over the file in front of her. “Then maybe I’d have better luck calling search-and-rescue to find it. Vincent’s files aren’t gonna cut it, too much of it is dated at this point.”

“Obviously he’s not the greatest at keeping up with things. So what are you going to do now?”

“I’ll figure it out, maybe circle back around to Omar Correa’s apartment. He’s the last known victim and for some reason I’ve been feeling drawn to the energy there since yesterday.”

“Alright but be careful. We don’t know how dangerous this Sandman is. And keep your phone on you. I have a detective looking into the police database so…once we find anything remotely close to a suspect I’ll call you.”

“Okay. I will keep you posted. And Kayla, thanks for the help. I know you could be spending time with your family instead of doing this on your morning off.”

“Don’t go soft on me now. I can balance working from home for just one day. This is our city and we’re not about to let anyone get away with threatening it.” Sharon bites her lip. “Yeah. I’ll…uh talk to you later,” she responds. “ _Be_ careful. Bye,” Kayla maintains. Sharon ends the call and flops back in her chair with a sigh.

* * *

 

Muffled music bounces off the walls as Keelin stands by the couch, touching up Mikaela’s flower adorned high bun. “I really wish Mama would turn the music down a notch or two. I think she forgot that some of us have strong auditory nerves,” the wolf mutters while concentrating on her work. Her daughter twirls from side to side, marveling at her ankle-length, ivory lace dress. She dusts her long sleeves off and clicks her sparkly gold sandals in wonder. Heavy footsteps draw the pair’s attention to Hayley lumbering into the courtyard with a rugged tan duffel bag.

Lighting up instantly Mikaela hurries over to greet the hybrid. “Auntie Hayley,” she yells. Hayley drops her luggage and kneels with open arms to intercept the child in a tight hug. “Oh my god,” she gasps playfully. “You can’t be the little Mikaela I know. You’re not so little anymore.” Mikaela pulls back to grin at the woman proudly, arms still wound around her neck.

“It is me! I’m just big and strong now because I’ve been eating all my vegetables!”

Hayley chuckles. “I can tell by these killer muscles cutie,” she replies, inspecting the little arms on her shoulders. An endeared Keelin approaches them. “And so the werewolf queen shows. What’s it been? A year now,” she questions, smiling. Hayley peers up at her with a smirk and carefully rises to her feet. “ _Hi_ , Keelin.” The twosome shares a look before wrapping their arms around each other. After a brief moment they pull apart. “Is it me or does this place seem kinda empty for a full house,” Hayley asks, tilting her head.

“Bridget is always rising before the sun and off somewhere, Rebekah went to go pick up her _specially_ shipped dress, and…my lovable yet worrying niece should be here soon if she knows what’s good for her.”

Hayley beams at the information. “I’m curious about your mini me. She can’t be any worse than we were as teenagers.” Keelin nods in agreement. “Yeah. All things considered, she’s been working through her grief and doing good. She’s strong. And so far I see no signs of anything beyond the usual teen angst but believe me when I say I am _counting_ on an explosive Malraux-Murphy temper.”

“Well if anyone can handle ‘I hate the world’ baby wolf aggression it’s you.” Keelin smiles widely and bites her lip as Hayley peers up at the second floor. “I was wondering where the interesting choice in music was coming from, but I guess that just leaves Freya,” the latter states. “She’s in a good mood this morning. But…she basically took over our bedroom,” the former notifies.

“Now this I have to see.”

“Suit yourself. Just tell her that I’m going to need the vanity back when I’m done with Mikaela.”

Hayley taps Mikaela’s chin affectionately. “Sure thing.” She walks over to climb the stairs and trudges towards the source of the loud music. When she gets there she knocks on the door. “Freya?” She’s met with no response, so she slowly turns the knob and pushes her way into the bedroom. After sidestepping the siege of clothing in her way, she watches Freya alternating poses while judging the simple white thigh-length dress she’s wearing. The Viking catches the hybrid in the mirror and abruptly waves her hand to shut the music off.

“Hayley?”

“In the flesh,” Hayley retorts, grinning. With a bright smile Freya spins around to embrace her strongly. “When did you get here,” she asks, pulling away. “Just now actually. I heard you were in a _very_ good mood, so I just had to see it for myself. By the way, Keelin wants her room back.” Freya shakes her head, sighing as she turns to the vanity and places her hands on her stomach.

“Yeah well she’s just going to have to wait a little longer. Suddenly, I can’t fit into the dress I bought for this wedding ahead of time.”

Hayley tilts her head while coming up behind her. “Keelin’s famous homecooking,” she poses. Freya smooths out her dress. “I would think so too if I wasn’t just wearing this the other day.” The hybrid concentrates on the problem area and begins to hear the distinguishable thump of a heartbeat. Her eyes widen as she detects a rhythm slightly faster than her own, as well as the blonde’s.

“Freya…maybe you should sit down for a second.”

“Not until I figure this out. We’re all matching, and my only other option is blue. Hayley, you’ve seen me in blue.”

“Freya…”

“Surely it’s nothing a little magic can’t fix. This waistline is just not working…”

“That’s probably because you’re pregnant, Freya.” Hayley exhales bluntly and Freya abruptly stops inspecting the dress to gaze at her through the mirror. “Excuse me,” the witch utters, appalled. “Yeah, pregnant. Maybe you forgot but the bloating sucks in the beginning. Just wait until you’re stuffing your face and packing on the real pounds,” the hybrid reclaims.

Spinning around Freya lets out a humorless laugh. “You’ve gotta be joking right now,” she states. “Freya, listen. I hear three heartbeats in this room. Mine, yours…and your baby’s.” The blonde freezes in her spot, gawking at Hayley who sighs in realization. “And Keelin doesn’t know either,” the latter deduces. Her friend purses her lips in denial. “There’s nothing to know because I’m not pregnant.”

“Freya.”

“Hayley. I love you, but I don’t have time for this. Okay? I have other things to worry about.”

Hayley frowns in disbelief. “You’re not serious. I get that you weren’t expecting this but it’s a pretty big deal.” Freya stands her ground, unwavering. After a moment Hayley raises her arms in surrender. “Okay…fine. I will leave you to it,” she huffs, turning around to exit the bedroom. Freya watches while knitting her fingers together nervously.

* * *

 

“Taking a break from world domination,” Isla quips while traipsing into the parlor. “I wouldn’t have guessed you could be _zen._ ” Veda is positioned on her knees, eyes closed in deep meditation. “A clear mind is the absence of emotion, the key to discipline. I must maintain such internal balance if I’m to lay waste to my enemies,” she states simply. Isla all but scoffs as she peers up at the ceiling.

“You’re such a walking contradiction,” she mutters.

Veda opens her eyes to gaze at the abnormally pale coven leader. “And you are a dead woman walking at this very moment. You have yet to give in and commit to my cause.” Isla redirects her weary eyes to the antagonist. “I’m sorry but did you forget the details of your insane plot? You murdered my aunt with a hex but not before forcing her to pass it on to me. So here I am slowly dying as you take over _my_ coven, the sisters _I’ve_ sworn to protect. And now you expect me to smile and have a grand ol’ time as I betray the woman that I care about. I guess you really didn’t think this one through did you?”

Veda slowly climbs to her feet and takes a few steps to cup Isla’s cheeks. “So you are angry with me for taking too much.” She drops her hands as the shorter woman snatches away with a scowl. “Let us not attempt to fool one another. The truth is that you felt relief when I disposed of your dear aunt. She was the light in your mother’s darkness, a keeper of her secrets but also a foe. One without faith in family is a dangerous thing. It was only a matter of time before she’d choose to come forward in the ultimate bid to clear her fragile conscience.”

Isla looks away, displaying several dark veins on her neck. Veda tilts her head at the sight. “And this human you care so much for. Are you willing to let her be destroyed by the harsh reality of our world? Or worse, would you truly allow her to destroy you all for the sake of useless feelings?” Isla turns her head with a fierce expression.

“Hayden has done nothing but make me see things differently. Because of her I began to have faith in something more.”

“You’ve placed your faith in a futile mortal fantasy and now you are the one that will remain lost, fledgling.”

Isla shakes her head furiously. “Just because something turned you into a cold, unfeeling monster doesn’t suddenly make the rest of us lost! You hold so much hate in your heart because your fear is to be unloved. But you are right about one thing. The world I was brought up in will swallow every bit of good in its path and suck the life from those who try to challenge it. Lucky for me I’m already dying as we speak so I refuse to allow Hayden to suffer the consequences of my mistakes.” Veda clenches her jaw but exhales to calm herself.

“Then by this next moon you will be swallowed whole, forever drowning in the abyss. I’m afraid I don’t possess the antidote you need for your true affliction, stubborn will born from a false sense of honor.” Her eyes flit to the three woman filing into the parlor. “Now. Your ancestors have chosen witches to accompany me. It appears that we’ve found common ground during the communion led by your coven last night. And here I thought no one could despise the original wretch more than I.”

The witches stop at either side of Veda. “Anming will carry the stake capable of desiccating an original. Lia possesses the poisonous bow and arrows sure to induce paralysis. Dear Maureen, is to wield the flail enchanted with potent werewolf venom. There is no doubt she won’t hesitate to sink its spikes into undead flesh. However, the best has been saved for last. I entrust the dagger imbued with power drawn from the sun to you, fledgling. As leader of this coven you must end the fight to come or die trying to avoid it.”

Maureen offers a polished, black stiletto to Isla. “The Stylet du Soleil. The last weapon we created in case the original proved to be a difficult catch. It’s no longer a last resort, Isla. You have to finish this.” The coven leader looks from the witch to the weapon before anxiously gripping her throbbing wrist.

* * *

 

In Omar’s living room, Sharon sits cross-legged on the hardwood floor. Candles encircle her as she holds a plastic vial up. She begins emptying tiny, white flakes from the tube onto the map of New Orleans spread out before her. After she’s finished she hovers her hands over the map and closes her eyes.

“Montre moi le coupable. Montre moi le coupable. Montre moi le coupable. Révéler son motif, révéler son esprit,” she intones.

The flames of the candles shoot upward. Sharon opens her eyes in anticipation but the flakes on the map fail to move. Losing her patience she grabs the map and throws it causing the substance to eject from the paper. It floats midair temporarily before slinging into the opposite direction, landing on the countertop. Pausing for a moment in surprise Sharon climbs to her feet and makes her way towards the kitchen. She discovers the flakes piled on top of the neon purple flier and carefully lifts the notice up to her eyes.

 

_MIRAGE_

_THE SANDS OF TIME, ONE NIGHT ONLY_

_Sat October 8 th_

_Doors Open at 9PM_

* * *

 

Hayley cautiously descends the stairwell in gold, open toe lace-up heels. Her flowy V-neck dress is off-white and stops below her knees. A rose gold pendant accentuates her plunging neckline while her shoulder-length hair is styled in highlighted waves, bringing out her facial features with the help of pinkish-red lipstick. At the end of the stairs Rebekah is leaning against the railing. She’s donning a dark blue, knee-length dress with gold-tinted flowery patterns on the trim. Her open toe heels are a shimmering gold to match. Loose blonde strands frame her face while the rest of her hair is pulled back into a stylistically messy bun, displaying her pearl earrings. Her nude painted lips curve into a wide smile as she types away on her phone.

“I thought I caught a whiff of high end perfume.”

Rebekah turns in time to catch Hayley stepping down onto the first floor. “Hayley,” she greets happily. Without words the pair embraces for some time before separating to look each other over. “So, you look great. It’s also nice to see you’re staying out of trouble,” the hybrid remarks. “For now,” the vampire quips. “And I could say the same while you’re in that elegant number. We’ve come a long way since the days of you borrowing my hand-me-downs haven’t we?”

“Don’t remind me.”

They both chuckle in remembrance until the bittersweet past comes flooding in. “I do wish I could see Hope more. She’s growing up so fast it seems,” Rebekah states softly. Hayley gives her an empathetic look. “Right before my eyes. She misses you too, Rebekah.” The blonde supplies a melancholy grin as the hybrid knits her fingers. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about but…I’m also wondering what evil scheme has you smiling at your phone like that.” In an instant Rebekah is overjoyed. She glances around the courtyard before pulling Hayley over to the entryway. “You can’t possibly fathom how glad I am to see you because at the moment, I’m just bursting with this thing called _utter happiness_ and I’m dying to tell someone.”

The younger woman tilts her head with a chuckle. “My god, what is it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this type of…excited,” she questions. The original beams while imitating the head gesture causing her friend to quirk an eyebrow. “Rebekah…? Correct me if I’m wrong but have you met someone? You’re glowing like crazy which means you’re obviously having great sex but…with an added bonus of something deeper?”

Rebekah bites her lip. “Well that’s just it. She’s been here all along, but we’ve had our fair share of roadblocks to overcome.” Hayley raises her eyebrows before grinning. “So this is about a lady friend? Color me surprised,” she quips. “Darling, I’ve had a thousand years not to limit myself on any front. After all, the confines of mainstream romance stopped applying to my siblings and I once we accepted what we are. History can’t simply be erased, even by Klaus’s hand.” Rebekah smiles as Hayley quietly processes the information with interest. “Everything about this feels different. She’s different and I’m not prepared to lose that. So first promise me that you won’t speak a word of this to anyone, especially not Freya.”

“Hey, who am I going to tell Rebekah? Klaus? Not after that sexually fluid Mikaelson-sized bomb you just dropped on me.”

“I’ve…been seeing Bridget.”

“Bridget…as in the most valued friend and potential organ donor of Keelin and Freya?”

Rebekah nods in confirmation. “It started months ago but as you know Elijah had me on a baseless search through Europe. It gradually put a damper on things with her but once we saw each other again it was like not a second of time had passed. I truly feel something for her, Hayley. Undoubtedly so.” Hayley grabs one of the vampire’s hands.

“Well I didn’t see that coming. _And_ it definitely adds a whole new layer to _gal pals_ ,” she jests, earning a laugh. “But I support you in anything that truly makes you happy, Rebekah. I can see that she’s it and all I can say at the end of the day is just to go for it. Life’s too short, or in our case _far_ too certain to not seek out the things we desire most for ourselves. So if it feels right, I can’t blame you for just embracing it and not wanting anything to screw that up. After everything you’ve been through you deserve someone that’s going to be there for you no matter what.”

Rebekah nods with an appreciative smile. “It means a lot you know, to have you in my corner,” she admits. “Aww come here,” Hayley coos, bringing the vampire into a loving hug. They laugh joyfully before pulling away. “So why the secrecy,” the brunette asks, curious. Her friend sighs. “We decided not to risk disapproval just yet. You know how us Mikaelsons can be, meddling in one another’s lives. I only wanted something good all for myself just this once.”

“Hey, I get it. Your secret is safe with me.”

Rebekah offers a halfhearted grin. “So, what did you want to talk to me about,” she questions. Hayley gives her a tentative look. “Well, it’s none of my business but…it’s about Freya. I’m…” A troop of footsteps intrude on the conversation. They turn to see the resident little family approaching them. “There you two are. Ready to go,” Freya asks, licking her rosy lips.

She’s finally done up in her dress from earlier with shoulder-length hair straightened to perfection. Beside her Keelin is wearing a short, lace halter dress with matching open toe heels. Her hair is styled in loose curls, decorated by one white camellia flower. Mikaela is holding onto Jordan who’s standing in a white, crochet sundress and brown espadrille wedges. The teenager is wearing a crescent moon charm, some gold bracelets, and her flat-ironed locks are swept to one side.  

Rebekah examines their outfits while knitting her brows. “Did I miss the memo on white? Despite how lovely your dresses are isn’t the mere thought off limits for guests,” she inquires. “Last time I checked there weren’t any bossy brides in this wedding, so I think we’re safe,” Keelin retorts. “Touché. Carry on then,” the original quips. Everyone grins at each other in amusement.

* * *

 

Hidden in the bayou is an ivy covered, wooden arch erected beneath a large willow tree. It’s decorated with red, white, and peach flowers. An intimate congregation of guests sit in white chairs, divided into two parties by a stone path running through the middle. Josh and Liam stand before them at the simple altar, holding each other’s hands in front of an old man. The vampire is wearing a grey tuxedo with a burgundy tie and matching boutonniere. His intended husband appears sharp in a blue three-piece suit, burgundy bow tie, and a boutonniere to match on the lapel of his jacket.

“Josh. On this day I give you my heart completely unguarded. I give you the promise to walk with you hand in hand, and wherever our journey leads us I will always stand beside you. You are the one I go to when I’m feeling lost. I can always seek your counsel about my problems and know that a solution will be found together. You are my man, my muse, and my accomplice.” Liam smirks cheekily. “And you are my true counterpart. You’re more than a best friend, a lover, stand up guy, and model citizen. You are my soulmate. I will love you, hold you, and honor you. I will respect you, encourage you, and protect you always. And I promise to cherish you in sickness and in health, through sorrow and success for all the days of my life.”

The guests smile as they silently gaze at the couple. In the second row of Josh’s party, Keelin unconsciously rests a hand on Freya’s thigh. The Viking shakes the hair from her eyes as she looks to her wife and grasps the hand on her leg with a grin. “Well that’s gonna be hard to follow up,” Josh quips, releasing a nervous chuckle. A few spectators laugh along as Liam shrugs.

“That’s alright. I’ve got all day,” the shopkeeper remarks, grinning.

Josh stares at him for a moment in deep thought. “You know, after everything I went through I never would’ve thought I could be genuinely so freaking all around happy. I got so used to losing everything I loved. The people who were supposed to be my family, my _life_ …the first guy I ever loved.” He glances over at Davina sitting in the front row between Hayley and Marcel. “My friends.” The witch gives him an encouraging smile before he turns his head back to Liam. “But then I walked into a random shop and met this interesting person by chance. Tall, dark, and handsome. Super kind to everyone he encountered, patient. He was even smooth enough to make funky print window curtains and medieval themed tapestry appealing. And let’s not forget the Darth Vader coffee set.”

A wave of laughter overcomes the guests, spurring on Liam. Josh tilts his head, wholeheartedly in awe of the sweet man before him. “And I knew then that I was gonna fall so hard for him. But I didn’t allow myself to imagine a reality where I could build one incredible life with this beautiful person. And now here I am receiving his unconditional love. So, I took it upon myself to spend a crazy amount of hours putting this all into words. Bear with me guys.”

He exhales to steady himself. “Liam. You are my everything and I can’t ever imagine being with someone else. I’m the biggest fan of everything you do because you’re just that amazing and more than anything I promise to be the husband you deserve. I promise to love and care for you endlessly, and I will try in every way to be worthy of your love in return. I will always be honest with you, kind, patient, and forgiving because those are the qualities you’ve taught me. And I will show you what it means to truly be loved just as you continue to show me every day. Whenever you need me I will be there to support you. But most of all, I promise to be a true and loyal friend to you. You are the love of my life, my partner in crime, and my equal in all things. I hope to spend this new chapter of our lives together living, learning, and loving each other the best way we know how. I love you, Liam. Forever.”

Liam gives Josh an unbreakable smile. In the front row next to Hayley, Bridget chances a glimpse at Rebekah who’s occupying the seat next to Jordan in the second row. The blonde feels a set of eyes on her and slowly locks onto the witch. They each present a starry-eyed smile creating a sudden shift in the air between them. At the altar the officiant provides the grooms with their rings.

“Now it is time for a final vow and ring exchange,” he announces, clasping his hands. Looking between the men he settles on Liam first. “Do you, Liam Muhammad Johnson, take Joshua Edward Rosza to be your partner for life? Do you promise, above all else, to live in truth with him and to communicate fully and fearlessly?” Liam nods affirmatively and slips a silver wedding band onto Josh’s finger. “I, Liam Muhammad Johnson, give my hand and my heart as a sanctuary of warmth and peace. I pledge my eternal love, devotion, faith, and honor as I join my life to yours.”

The officiant looks at Josh. “Do you, Joshua Edward Rosza, promise to do the same unto Mr. Johnson,” he asks seriously. “Well I’d be stupid not to. He’s gold.” The vampire slips a gold wedding band onto his intended’s appropriate finger before looking into dark eyes. “I, Joshua Edward Rosza, give my hand and my heart as a sanctuary of warmth and peace. I pledge my eternal love, devotion, faith, and honor as I join my life to yours.” The old man grins at the loving couple. “Before the eyes of your family and friends I now pronounce you partners for life. You may seal your promise with a kiss,” he directs. Josh smiles as Liam cups his cheeks, pulling him into a tender kiss. Everyone rises from their seats, clapping their hands, cheering, and whistling in jubilation.

* * *

 

Well-dressed attendees are observing the first dance of the newlyweds. Some are sitting at their designated tables within the spacious old building while others are standing around. Waiting patiently by a wooden post Davina interlocks her fingers in front of her. She’s wearing a short, sheer floral patterned dress and a few gold bracelets. Her white, strappy heels match the prominent flowers of her outfit and her matte pink lipstick compliments the other tiny blossoms adorning her collar dress. Marcel, decked out in a classic black tuxedo and bow tie, approaches her.

“You look beautiful.”

Davina wordlessly steps around to the other side of her post and folds her arms. Marcel nods to himself before settling against the opposite side. “Who would’ve thought huh? Josh gets the closest thing to a fairytale ending out of everyone here.” He looks out at Josh and Liam dancing in a slow circle under the dangling lights. Then he sets his eyes on the silent witch to his left, grin fading as he notices her foot tapping in annoyance.

“You’ve been a good friend to that guy. After all this time you’ve stuck by him and he’s done the same for you. True friendship like that is rare, D.”

Suddenly, Davina turns to Marcel with a less than pleased look. “No offense Marcel but what would you know about a real friendship? Because to me it seems like you only keep your friends close when it’s beneficial to your plans,” she bites. The vampire tilts his head, unsurprised by the outburst. “Davina…” A tall, dark-haired man in a blue tuxedo taps on a microphone.

“Okay folks. It’s the best man Seth here to announce the _second_ dance. Could we please have our special ladies come to the floor,” he requests.

A middle-aged brown-skinned woman scurries over to Josh with her exotic purple dress flowing in the breeze. She excitedly pinches the vampire’s cheeks as Liam chuckles. “Mom don’t ruin the face I have to go home to,” the latter jests before scanning the crowd. “I have to go dance with Liam,” Davina speaks up. “Just do us all a favor, Marcel. Don’t pretend to care when it’s finally convenient for you. It’s pretty pathetic.” She swiftly marches onto the dancefloor leaving Marcel to watch in disappointment.

* * *

 

Hovering over the kitchen table Hayden flips through a large, worn leather book. While she’s skimming its sandy pages three heavy knocks pound on the door. Perking up at the unexpected alert she closes the book and removes her glasses before placing them on top of the hard cover. Afterwards she saunters over to check the peephole and quickly unlocks the door, pulling it open to reveal a washed out Isla. “Oh my god. Are you okay,” Hayden questions, examining the dark circles around the leader’s eyes. “I’m managing,” Isla reclaims, mustering a weak smile.

Hayden shakes her head worriedly and pulls the witch inside by the arm. “You cancelled our plans and went radio silent. I didn’t know what to think.” Isla flinches and snatches her arm to hold to her chest while sucking in a breath. Dark brown eyes scrutinize her. “What happened to you,” the bar owner questions.

“Hayden…”

“Show me your arm, Isla.”

Hayden extends a hand and Isla slowly steps forward, accepting defeat out of exhaustion. This time the taller woman pulls the witch in carefully before peeling her leather jacket off and letting it drop to the floor. Her eyes widen at the long dark veins running up the leader’s forearm. She quickly peers up into shadowy green eyes.

“This is obviously dark magic so who did this to you?” Isla swallows thickly. “I didn’t come here to scare you into saving me, Hayden. I’m here because I’ve made a bad choice and I won’t just die before telling you the truth about everything.” Hayden stares at her anxiously.

* * *

 

On the dancefloor Josh fist pumps and bops his head to an eighties-infused song. Hayley is behind him, grooving while running a hand through her hair, and Davina is sipping champagne as she sways in front of him. A few feet away Liam joins hands with Bridget who’s clad in a black cropped cami, mesh midi striped skirt, and pointed red bottom heels. He pushes her outward before drawing her back into a tipsy tango. Freya is holding Mikaela’s arm up, giggling at the adorably confident face she makes while spinning. She hoists her daughter up onto her hip and takes her hand as they happily rock side to side. Keelin has both of Jordan’s hands while attempting to get a dance out of her. The teenager lightly rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance until she’s finally freed only to have her aunt shimmying in her face. “You’re so embarrassing,” she shouts, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.

In the dining section, a grinning Rebekah leans against a column with a glass of champagne in hand. Marcel comes up behind her with his own drink. “Looks like they’re having fun,” he remarks, spectating the scene. “Nothing like an autumn wedding to get everyone in a partying mood. I could watch this go on forever like a perfect painting,” the original expresses.

“You always did want this with your family. Maybe a big spring wedding instead of a fall one though.”

Rebekah stiffens her shoulders. “Well things change and dreams fade. I’m not sure I care to reflect on old times so…” She swills the rest of her champagne and sets the glass down on the table to her left. “If you’ll excuse me.” Marcel quickly grabs her arm to stop her. “Hey, I need to ask you something.” His ex-wife all but rolls her eyes in dismay.

“Yes, I’m happy Marcel. And that’s without the promise of a cliché wedding hookup.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s about Davina.”

Rebekah gives her full attention as she scrutinizes Marcel for a moment. “What is it now,” the former asks, aware. The latter licks his lips. “Why is she so angry with me still? You’re not,” he points out. “And what gave you the impression that I’m not?” Marcel eyes Rebekah incredulously. “Come on, I’m serious. It’s not like I haven’t tried with her,” he sighs.

“Would you really like to know why Davina can’t stand the sight of you, Marcel? You weren’t there when she wanted you to be. And you still weren’t there whenever she needed you. But like magic, you always appear when there’s something that you want or need. It never fails. _You_ never want to fail when it comes to being king, damn what anybody else wants.”

Marcel lifts his chin. “And is that where I went wrong,” he questions. Rebekah stares at him, loathing the deeper connotation. “Make of that what you will but it’s quite simple. You could’ve made the time. Perhaps you could’ve even picked up the pieces and made the necessary repairs. You just didn’t want to. And now you’re afraid it’s too late.” She promptly strides away and Marcel rubs at his chin before peering into his glass.

* * *

 

In her office, Sharon sits at her laptop scrolling through a blur of watermarked pictures. It’s been about half an hour since she began scouring the club’s official website for clues. “What am I looking for,” she mutters to herself. With a sigh she rubs at her temples before noticing an ad on the bottom right corner of the screen. _Become A Homeowner Today_.

She thinks for a moment and clicks back to the search engine. _Mirage New Orleans Club Owner_. After tapping a button she scans the results presented onscreen. Opting to click on an article about the club’s grand opening she finds herself confronted by a photograph of the owner. _Jamie Albright, of ALBRIGHT ENTERPRISE_. He appears fairly young, anywhere from his late twenty’s to early thirty’s, and seems to be of Asian descent. His complexion is a light tan characterized by thick eyebrows, hooded eyes, and a shaven anchor beard. He’s sporting a taper haircut with grey highlights in his jet-black locks.

Something about his restrained smirk sends a familiar chill up Sharon’s spine in through her bones. Once again she clicks back to the search and types in a new phrase. _Jamie Albright New Orleans_. Various bars and clubs pop up within the results, piquing her interest. _A NOLA ENTREPRENEUR’S ARTISTIC TAKE ON CONNECTING_. She selects the more recent article and begins reading.

 

_Mr. Albright prides himself on remaining the most dedicated music enthusiast in the world. Currently, he is the mastermind behind a few noteworthy establishments. There's the niche Blue Moon Bar, an intimate and poetic jam nest singlehandedly responsible for discovering up and coming talent in New Orleans._

_Then there's the more upscale jazz lounge, The Lily, that boasts an authentic 40s feel. If you're not booking a room at the five star hotel it's located in, be sure to get your name on the list several weeks in advance._

_Last but not least our featured connoisseur has kept locals and tourists alike raving about his Arts District nightclub, Mirage. This noisy discotheque boasts high class service, nonstop EDM, and some of the world's top guest DJs along with the occasional but extravagant theme nights._

_Although Mr. Albright values a personal life over buzzing social media accounts, he embraces the growing interest in his work via the internet. His team has dedicated plenty of time and effort to propelling his brand forward. He hopes to lead the movement in revolutionizing music while still preserving the intimate ways in which we consume it._

_So, what's next for this mysterious visionary? Well, sources say that the foundation for a new brainchild is underway with no location disclosed just yet. However, we can assure you that this massive music venue is set to be regally titled "Monarch Concert Hall" and will, without a doubt, impact tourism._

 

Sharon leans forward in her chair as she scrolls back up to the top of the page. **_“I know he was the Sandman. He used his powers to put Omar to sleep. I think he used a song like in my book.”_** Sharon clicks back to the search and selects the available images of Jamie Albright. She comes across one of him in a black coat and immediately pauses on it. Quickly unlocking her phone she goes to her pictures and taps on the one of Danny's drawing before holding it up to the computer screen. Her eyes widen at the eerie similarities.

* * *

 

From her spot on the couch Isla watches as Hayden paces back and forth. “Say something before you set this hotel room on fire,” she entreats. “You’re cursed. And now you’re being forced by your ancestors to help Freya’s crazy adoptive mother.” Hayden finally halts her movement to stand in front of Isla. “Well obviously you can’t do this to my friends.” The witch shakes her head.

“I don’t want to but it’s out of my control. You don’t know what the Ancestors are capable of. If I keep trying to rebel against their plan who knows what they’ll do through Veda.”

Hayden tilts her head. “Then we’re gonna need all the help we can get. I’ll call my friends and warn them. That way everyone’s safe and we can fight this together.” Isla is immediately up on her feet. “All of this started from a deal I made to protect my family. If your friends find out the truth they’ll come after me, my mother, and my coven. I’ve accepted my fate, but I can’t risk letting people suffer in my place.”

“I understand that you were backed into a tight spot but what did you expect from telling me everything? I’m going to protect you but not while leaving my friends vulnerable. Okay? There’s no negotiating this.”

Hayden moves to the kitchen area and grabs her phone from the table. A sharp pain shoots through Isla’s wrist and she clutches it in agony. Her eyes begin to roll back into her head as she collapses onto the floor in a heap. At the sound of the heavy thud Hayden stops scrolling through her phone and spins around, suddenly terrified by the sight of Isla’s motionless body.

“No.”

She hurries over to Isla and drops down on her knees beside her. After placing an ear to the witch’s chest she confirms a sign of life within a low hum. As she listens the noise grows louder until it’s hammering against her ear. Confused, she lifts her head up to examine Isla’s expressionless features and reaches out just as the witch’s eyes pop open. They’re cloudy white for a moment before the irises shift to a deep violet. A shrill wailing noise sets off and Hayden covers her ears, abruptly passing out on the floor. Isla sits up rigidly and rises to step over the human’s unconscious body.

* * *

 

The venue is filled with the soft sound of piano and guitar driven music. As the bodies surrounding him continue to slow dance Josh lifts his chin from Liam’s shoulder with a toothy grin. “What,” the latter questions, arching a brow. “Oh nothing. Just that I’m slow dancing with my _husband_ at this unreal wedding. And let me tell you, it definitely beats going stag to one of these things.”

Liam grins, amused. “Well you’re the Man of the Hour, babe. And you’ll never have to stand on the sidelines watching everyone else get their happiness. I’ve got you covered,” he attests. Josh gazes at him in admiration before leaning into a kiss and resting their foreheads together.

Elsewhere on the dancefloor Keelin has her arms wrapped around Freya’s shoulders. She tilts her head slightly while observing the distant witch. “Everything okay? I know you’re the silent brooding type but it’s a wedding, honey.” Freya gifts a small smile. “Do you recall our wedding day,” she asks. Keelin knits her brows playfully. “Which one,” she asks, goofy.

Green eyes narrow on her. “The physical one, Queen Mimosa.” Keelin grins softly. “How could I forget? We got _legally_ married underneath Greg’s tree in a private ceremony…and then we threw the party of the century. You didn’t expect that crazy turnout,” she recounts. “I didn’t expect a lot out of life, but you changed that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Keelin. I’m _nothing_ without you.”

Keelin arches an eyebrow while examining the oddly melancholy tone. “Hey, we don’t need to worry about that now. Our life is amazing. Look at all the love we get to experience with our family and friends.” She moves her hands to cradle Freya’s face. “And there’s plenty more to come so take a moment Miss Peppy…and come back down to earth where I need you. We’re having fun alright? Even if weddings clearly get to you.” Chuckling, the Viking offers a newly inspired grin and shakes her head at her giggling wife.

At a corner table Hayley and Bridget sip their drinks while spectating the reception. “Mind passing me…” With a smile the pureblood offers a bottle of champagne right away. “More booze,” she intercepts. The hybrid tilts her head with a smirk. “Thanks.” She watches as her drinking companion sits back in her chair before observing Rebekah on the dancefloor with Seth.

She clears her throat deliberately. “So…you and Rebekah are a thing. That makes me obligated to break your _bones_ if you break her heart.” Bridget turns her attention to Hayley and sits up in her seat. “Well I don’t plan on being ripped to shreds, so you don’t have to worry. Truthfully…she’s the first person I’ve cared about this much in a long time. That alone is scary enough,” she admits.

Hayley softens but maintains her serious demeanor while looking into emotive brown eyes. “It’s scary because you’re in love. That means freefalling into the unknown, putting yourself out there, and laying everything on the line. It’s hard to do that when you’ve been hurt in the past. We’ve all been there, some of us with that one person that never seems to go away.”

“Elijah. I mean I’m assuming based on the whole complicated history I’ve heard about.”

“Me and Elijah… _are_ complicated. We’ve both moved on but…I will always care about him.”

On the dancefloor Rebekah and Seth sway in a circle. “Can I be honest with you,” the best man asks. “I do appreciate honesty. Especially if it involves a healthy amount of cajolery,” the blonde quips, earning a laugh. “You’re funny. Add that to the growing list of reasons why I want to get to know you better. I’ve been waiting to make a move for hours, since I first saw you.”

“Look, Seth is it? I’m flattered but I’m also spoken for. There will be no sparks flying between us.”

Seth opens his mouth to speak but Marcel materializes next to him. “Can I cut in,” the latter asks. The former looks at him awkwardly. “ _Oh_. Sure man, I didn’t know she was with you. Sorry.” He releases his hold on Rebekah and quickly leaves the scene. Marcel settles into his place, gripping the original’s hand and securing her lower back as she sighs exasperatedly.

“What do you want now, Marcel?”

“I’ve gotta say. Seeing you dazzle some poor schmuck is bringing up a _lot_ of memories.”

“And those memories are best left alone don’t you think?”

“Hey, can’t a guy give his stunning ex-wife a compliment? It’s a wedding, I’m trying to play nice.”

“Of course. But you forget that I’ve endured your smooth talking for centuries. I’m fully aware of you wanting something and you should know by now that whatever words you’re conjuring in your head won’t suddenly throw me into temptation.”

Marcel gazes at Rebekah seriously. “I was thinking about what you said before. Something about me being afraid that it’s too late to fix my mistakes. How do I start,” he asks. His former flame lifts her chin. “You listen to her. _Then_ you apologize. And you prove that you’ll do whatever it takes to gain her trust back if you really want to be a part of her life,” she reclaims. Marcel nods accordingly. “And what about you,” he asks curiously. Rebekah shakes her head with an incredulous laugh.

“I think I’m past the revelation of our true endgame, Marcel. Very few pieces remain in this centuries-old match between us. I was the first great love that became your prize and you were once my hope for more. But it didn’t take long to realize we would always be pulled in opposite directions. Not because we were forced to like Elijah and Hayley, or like Freya and Keelin, but because we _chose_ to.”

Marcel shakes his head, grinning. “We didn’t choose to suffer Klaus’s wrath for centuries,” he remarks. “That may be true, but Klaus is not to blame for our inability to _choose_ each other first,” Rebekah counters. “We were always too different. And finally being alone together only proved just how unsuited we are. Different motives, different goals, and vastly different dreams. Over the centuries we’ve become little more than familiars always there to pacify one another, to soothe wounds both fresh and old. It took me a long time to reconcile both our selfish faults but once I did it made perfect sense. I had to stop being too afraid of my loneliness to let go of all the false safety nets I’ve created in my head. That is the only way I can be open to true, unconditional love.”

Rebekah pauses, licking her lips. “And that’s why our marriage ended in peace rather than anger. We weren’t the true keepers of each other’s hearts and there was nothing left to fight for,” she concludes. “Rebekah,” Marcel utters. The blonde frees her hand to cup the vampire’s cheek, stopping their dance. “Don’t. I’ve always cared for you but now I know better. You should too. There’s no fixing what has never been broken, the pieces were just never meant to fit.” She allows him to process her words as they stare at each other.

“Do you love her? Unconditionally?”

Rebekah retracts her hand from Marcel’s face. “So you do,” the latter construes, nodding at the silent confirmation. From the table Hayley notices the pair sharing an intense gaze on the dancefloor. She automatically turns her head to find Bridget watching the situation unfold. The witch hastily pushes her chair back to stand up. “Where are you going,” Hayley sighs, tilting her head. “I’m getting some air,” Bridget responds, grabbing a bottle of champagne. As the witch makes a beeline for the doors the hybrid slumps back in her chair while shaking her head.

* * *

 

With arms folded to his chest Alex stands back as a young brunette woman lights a series of candles. They’re in the middle of a large, empty warehouse space where an unconscious man lies on the floor, contained by the flames. “Are you sure this will work? He’s half dead and I’m not keen on placing all my eggs in one basket.”

The brunette bends over to light the final candle and swings her long ponytail as she looks at Alex. “You have your men out searching for this witch and my assistance could prove to speed up the process. No harm done.” She sits down on the floor and dips her fingers in a small bowl of powder before rubbing her hands together. “A powerful mental spell should show me the cause of his state.”

“Good. Now prove it to me.”

The brunette carefully presses her white fingertips to either side of the man’s head. Closing her eyes she inhales deeply before exhaling. “Montre moi la racine de l’affliction.” She feels a shift and bows her head over the man. For a few moments there’s nothing but dead silence as she holds her position. Alex furrows his eyebrows. “Jeannie,” he shouts impatiently.

Without warning Jeannie flings her head back, eyes bulging as she breathes rapidly. “What’s happening,” Alex questions, dropping his arms. He watches the trembling witch straining to hold onto the unconscious man. “Tell me dammit!” Jeannie gasps and swallows hard. “There’s a…a strong psychic hold on your dealer. I’ve never felt energy this powerful, so intricate…the closest thing to omnipotence.”

“What does that mean? I’m up against some no-name witch with a god complex?”

Blood begins streaming from Jeannie’s eyes, nose, and mouth. “This is not the work of a witch at all. It’s…” She starts convulsing and Alex drops to his knees in time to catch her as she finally lets go of the dealer. “Jeannie!” The witch’s head lulls into the wolf’s chest giving him a view of the blood trickling out of her ear. With a soft sigh her boss carefully strokes her hair and grimaces as heavy footsteps draw closer.

“Find me a new witch. Jeannie has paid her dues and her family will be compensated in her honor.”

“Done. As for that new witch how about we upgrade? Say, the Queen,” a southern voice advises.

Alex lifts his chin but remains quiet as the proposal continues. “If we’re gonna find this bogeyman we’ll need more power. Keeping an enemy close was smart but you can’t keep up the charade with her forever.” Gently, Alex lies Jeannie’s body down on the ground before climbing to his feet. He slowly turns around to face the bearded man behind him.

“Never speak those idiotic thoughts out loud again or I’ll be needing another replacement.” The subordinate closes his mouth and nods accordingly. “Now clean this up, spin it into an unfortunate medical mishap, and have someone inform her brother. And if it’s not too much, I want somebody wiser than you tailing Sharon.”

* * *

 

With an arm around Liam’s shoulders, Josh is standing at a table in the center of the venue. To his right is Davina, then Hayley, followed by a woman with long locs, Seth, a sitting Keelin, Freya, and finally Marcel ending the circle at Liam’s left side. They’re all drinking and laughing at the banter between Hayley and Seth. Josh looks around the table with a massive grin.

“Well. It’s been one hell of a wedding and it’s all thanks to you guys. I know it’s not over just yet, but I couldn’t go another second without recognizing the people here supporting me and Liam. We’re forever grateful to have some of the coolest people as friends. No scratch that, _family_. Who could’ve guessed the underdog would end up being surrounded by so many smiling faces on his perfect wedding day?”

He points a thumb at himself. “Not this guy.” Laughter consumes the tipsy group. “ _Josh_. Wrap it up cause you’re drunk,” Liam commands, teasing. “Okay, okay. My new husband _swears_ that I’m too drunk to carry this awesome speech so…thanks for making this day unforgettable. I love you guys. And let’s keep fist pumping the night away cause this one’s for all of you!”

Josh raises a glass in the air, inciting his friends to do the same before they all take a drink. “Mm, by the way Josh. No one’s been fist pumping but you,” Davina chimes. She shrugs, receiving a death glare from her friend as everyone else chuckles. “Just thought you should know.” Liam elbows his husband. “It’s true, babe.” Josh scoffs playfully. “Ha, for now.”

Keelin peers up at Freya and easily notes her weariness. “Hey, are you okay? You look about ready to call it a day.” The blonde stops rubbing her forehead to provide a half-convincing smile. “You don’t have to doctor me. It’s just a serious case of having too much fun. Alcohol-free this time of course,” she remarks, earning a grin from her wife.

“Well I’m glad. But if you’re ready to go home we can go, baby.”

Freya shoots a glance over at Mikaela and Jordan happily eating red velvet cake with Liam’s mother. Then she looks around her current table of friends as a content smile settles onto her lips. Shaking her head she fixes her gaze to Keelin. “You stay here and enjoy the party with our family. I’ll be fine after getting home and climbing into bed for a little nap. You can tell me all about what I missed later okay?” Keelin tilts her head, scrutinizing her wife. “Are you sure,” she asks, instantly receiving a nod in response.

“Well I guess we can ride back home with Rebekah. Just text me when you get in.”

“Okay.”

Freya leans down to cup Keelin’s cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you,” she breathes. “I love you too.” The brunette reciprocates the grin her soulmate offers before watching her stride away from the festivities. An unexplainable feeling sinks inside of her until she’s brought back into the conversation by Hayley.

In another area of the property Rebekah slowly enters a room filled with old tables, chairs, and various tools. She observes Bridget running her fingers over the top rail of a chair before gripping its round ear. Taking note of the blue liquor bottle in the witch’s hand, she clears her throat. “Why did you wander off? Surely you can’t find dusty antiques and a mysterious odor more appealing than familial company.”

“Somebody died in this chair a long time ago. Heart attack.”

Rebekah tilts her head. “So you’ve stumbled into the farthest corner you could find to drink warm champagne while conducting morbid readings on a bunch of junk. Just tell me what the issue is,” she commands. Bridget finally spins around to face her with a shrug. “I wasn’t in a celebratory mood. And right now I just want to be _alone_ in my dusty corner. Sorry.”

Blue eyes attempt to discern her cloudy disposition as she goes to take a swig. However, Rebekah is right in front of her, gripping the neck of the bottle in an instant. “Well apparently we have a problem then. I have no plans to go anywhere, not until you let me in,” she affirms. Bridget briefly shuts her eyes in frustration. “I did let you in! And then I saw you with Marcel. Not to mention I wasn’t privy to your girltalk with Hayley. Do you know what it was like seeing how you two looked at each other and having her right there to witness it? I felt _stupid_ , Rebekah.”    

“It isn’t how you think it is.”

“Really? Because I’m not blind. I can’t compete with centuries worth of you playing Juliet to Marcel’s Romeo. There’s literal history between you two and I’m not naïve enough to believe I hold a candle to that.”

Rebekah’s eyes flit up to the ceiling as she shakes her head with an incredulous chuckle. “There is no bloody competition! I told Marcel precisely why there will never be another reconciliation for us. We were never meant to be and I’ve long since moved on. I swear to you it’s true.” She takes the bottle from Bridget, causing her to look away as she sets it on the nearby table. Right after she grasps the witch’s hands to hold in her own.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Rebekah tilts her head as Bridget obliges with a reluctant sigh. “I’m surprised by this side of you. Usually it’s me, ready to rip the heads off each and every one of your potential suitors. So, naturally I just assumed I was the insecure one in this relationship.” The pureblood shakes her head in an effort to suppress a smile and her girlfriend revels in the small victory.

“I trust you okay? I just know what it’s like to be lied to, cheated on, and left for whatever seems more exciting at the time. Slight irrational behavior and insecurities galore are just part of the territory. I’ve been avoiding commitment for so long because of it, even before my gene scare.”

“And are you hoping to compare notes with the world’s most hopeless romantic? Look, I understand what it’s like to be manipulated, used, and discarded. Time after time I’ve had the lust for power chosen over me. I’ve loved hard and easily despite my better judgement only to be left with nothing in the end. So believe me when I say that I see you, Bridget. I see every bit of the pain, trauma, sadness but also the strength, kindness, and unconditional love for everyone within your eyes. I would never wish to hurt you in any way so trust and believe in that truth. I am yours and you are mine.”

Bridget gazes into sincere ocean eyes. “I don’t think I can hide my feelings for you anymore. If anything my green-eyed trip to boozeville is proof of that,” she remarks. “Dating in secret hardly ever works out so…why not just take the plunge, tell our family. If you want to of course,” Rebekah proposes, hopeful grin. Bridget smiles with a glint in her eyes. “I want to, but after the reception. Josh deserves the spotlight and in the _meantime_ I’d really like to lay down,” she retorts. Rebekah chuckles knowingly.

“I’ll get you home.”

* * *

 

Sharon eases forward on the step stool while rummaging through the shelf of her bedroom closet. After clearing a path through some hats and folded clothes she uncovers a medium sized box with her nickname on it. _SHARRY_. She grips it with both hands and cautiously steps down off the stool. Lowering onto her knees she stares at the label handwritten by Lo.

Her fingers reach out to trace each letter on their own accord. Halfway through the act she stops herself and closes her eyes with a shake of her head. Taking a deep breath she reopens her eyes and pulls back the flaps of the box. She fishes a leather grimoire out and sits it in her lap before unfastening the strap around the cover.

* * *

 

**_Kingdom of Norway, 10 th Century._ **

**_A storm rages just outside the hovel walls, sending a tremor through the forest. Dahlia hums through the cracking of thunder while mixing a concoction in a small bowl. When she finishes stirring the mixture she rises from her chair and walks over to the hissing firepit. She examines a silver talisman hanging over the flames before fixing her gaze to Freya’s slumbering form. She crosses the short distance to nudge the blonde’s shoulder._ **

**_“Wake up, dear Freya.”_ **

**_Freya groans and shifts on her side. “Auntie, please. You must let me rest now. My condition has worsened, and I feel so very tired,” she rasps. Dahlia sits down at her bedside and gently pets her hair. “My child. Dawn is approaching, and it has proven to agitate you further. You must drink a special tonic I have prepared if you wish to ease your sickness,” she reclaims._ **

**_In seconds Freya is pulling herself up into a sitting position. Dahlia smiles widely while holding the bowl up. “Good girl. Now drink and you will feel much better.” She allows her niece to take hold of the bowl but still helps bring it to her lips. After deeming a long sip enough she gets up and carries the bowl to the firepit where she pours out its remaining contents. The fire brightens momentarily but returns to its initial state. Freya studies the flames with a drop in her stomach and a knot in her throat. “Auntie? I beg you to tell me that was not one of your brews,” she requests._ **

**_Dahlia snatches the dangling talisman from the post it hangs from and inspects it closely. “You have grown rather close to that woodsman, Freya. And my instincts have led me to believe that something of unimaginable power has been created from such a union. I will test this theory of mine now.” Freya looks on helplessly as her aunt lowers the talisman into the flames._ **

**_“If, this talisman burns blue, then my senses have failed me for the very first time in all my existence. That is unlikely but possible. However, should it burn a lovely…marigold, well. You will finally bear the next generation of my firstborns.”_ **

**_Freya parts her lips in horror as Dahlia slowly lifts the talisman up from the flames, revealing an orange glow._ **

In the quiet of the dining room Freya sits alone at the long table. Within her hand is the pending results threatening to shock her into an early grave. In truth, she’s about one mantra away from losing all sense of composure at this point. The creeping anticipation eats away at her more than the outcome ever could. “I can’t be pregnant. This isn’t part of the plan,” she whispers.

The outlying clack of heels suddenly echoes over her thoughts. The sound draws nearer before ceasing as joyful laughter assumes its place. Freya rises from her chair and tucks the pregnancy test into the pocket of her grey, cotton sweatpants. As she exits the dining room the scene ahead stops her in her tracks. There, in the middle of the courtyard, she witnesses Rebekah pulling Bridget in close by the hand. A distinct magnetism is present between them as they share a grin, easing in for a kiss. Freya stands there in shock until anger sets in just as the pair are mere centimeters apart.

“Rebekah,” she calls out.

Startled, Rebekah and Bridget separate before whipping their heads to the source of the disturbance. Tightening her fists Freya begins marching over to them right when more footsteps echo throughout the courtyard. The trio abruptly turn their attention to Veda stopping several feet away with two Garden District witches on each side of her. Their enemy smirks at their astonishment.

“Sorry for the delay. Were you no longer expecting me?”


	10. The Long Kiss Goodnight Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya struggles with her emotions during the fight against Veda; Sharon confronts the Sandman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm here with Part 2 to pick up where we left off with the drama. There's a lot of fighting and more revelations in this one so it's a bit of a rollercoaster. Only two more chapters until the second half of the story so as always I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Emmit Fenn - Lost In Space: Mikaela and Davina dance, Keelin and Hayley talk about Mikaela, Jordan talks to Patrick.
> 
> 2) Whissell - Get Free: Courtyard fight; Sharon leaves Kayla a voicemail.
> 
> 3) Emily Rowed - Burn: Hayley and Jordan talk about being a werewolf.
> 
> 4) Rebecca Clements - Spiral: Freya, Bridget, and Rebekah argue.
> 
> 5) Old Sea Brigade - Sinkhole: Freya and Veda argue; Rebekah talks to Hayley and Keelin.
> 
> 6) Ponette - Hours: Sharon observes Jamie and tries to get a reading.
> 
> 7) Aurora - Churchyard: Freya and Hayden argue; Sharon meets Jamie; The Garden District witches escape the boundaries.
> 
> 8) ODESZA - Falls (Reprise): Hayden comforts Isla; Bridget takes care of Rebekah and Freya finally faces Keelin.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

“Sorry for the delay. Were you no longer expecting me?”

Freya aggressively moves past Rebekah and Bridget to stand in front. “In my home? No, I didn’t think you would be so bold. But clearly it was only a matter of time before you’d seek to reclaim your magic with a vengeance. I’m guessing this is that day,” she remarks.

“Very good, Freya. I admit that your earth spell was quite clever. Obviously I’ve taught you well. But a wise teacher knows better than to disclose all their tricks. I’m sure you realize that with my magic fully intact I am capable of besting you. However, I only wish to even the score with your sister and loyal friend. This is your opportunity to step aside.”

Freya tilts her head, unimpressed smirk on her lips. “You know me well enough to realize that I would never allow anyone to harm my family. That includes you. So last time I checked, the score that needed settling was between you and me.” Veda stares at her, pursing her lips. “If this is the act of forcing my hand then I am asking you to rethink it. Let us not make this a fight where it does not have to be,” she requests.

“You’ve brought the fight all on your own so what’s the matter Veda? You’re not strong enough to finish what you started? Isn’t that what you always set out to do?”

Veda lifts her chin. “Ladies.” As if on cue each of the Garden District witches ready their weapons: Isla unsheathes her black dagger, Maureen dangles a black skull-shaped flail, Anming grips her silver stake by its cloth handle, and Lia positions her snakeskin bow before grabbing an arrow from the case strapped to her back. Freya, Rebekah, and Bridget cast their eyes on them worriedly.

“Forgive me for the lack of introductions. These women are very powerful witches from the Garden District, selected and presented to me by generous new allies of mine. I believe you refer to them collectively as the Ancestors. And might I say, they are not very fond of you.”

* * *

 

“Watch me, Auntie Davina!”

As the center of attention Mikaela proceeds to spin on one foot. “Okay! That’s really good,” Davina encourages while beaming. She takes the child’s hands and twirls her around on the dancefloor. Josh, Liam, and a crowd of guests egg on the pair with laughter and applause. Some distance away Keelin and Hayley watch the adorable scene from their table.

“Little Freya is stealing all the hearts with that big personality. How do you do it?”

Keelin chuckles proudly. “Well, she can definitely be a handful. That’s for sure. She’s too smart for her own good, incredibly sensitive to everything around her. But there’s also a certain cuteness factor.” She obtains a bright smile from Hayley and flits her eyes down to the table as she fiddles with the base of her wine glass.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to let her be so far away. You already know how Freya is about her.”

She peers up with a conflicted expression. “I promise that it will be fine,” Hayley reassures, tilting her head. “Hope will be so happy to see her and the school…Keelin, everything she’ll need to help control her magic is there. And she will be surrounded by lots of kids just like her. Witches, wolves. You name it.” Keelin’s lips curve into an optimistic yet still uncertain smile and Hayley reaches out to place her hand on top of the wolf’s. “Your little girl will be happy. And most of all, _safe_ ,” she affirms with conviction. Keelin stares into fiercely protective green eyes before nodding.

Feet away, Jordan leans against the column previously occupied by Rebekah. She sips her drink from a toasting flute while observing the private conversation between Marcel and Patrick. The latter nods at something his superior says and receives a pat on the shoulder as he’s left alone. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and scans the ongoing party from his personal corner.

Biting her lip Jordan collects herself before sauntering over to him. “Are you lost,” she asks. Patrick turns to her with a knowing grin. “Actually…I was just talking to the boss about some things. _You_ , on the other hand, appear to be right at home,” he retorts. Jordan shakes her head with a shrug.

“Not really. The guests have been clearing out and this is only sparkling cider in my glass. Not that getting drunk off my face would save me from the boredom anyway.”

“I see. Well that reminds me, how’s your friend doing?”

Jordan wags her phone in the air. “Jasmine is okay, courtesy of my care package and reality TV. I stayed as long as I could, and we’ve been texting throughout the day. Once this thing is over I’m going to stop by for a bit, just to make sure she has everything she needs until her parents are back. As far as my aunt is concerned Jazzy has caught a bug.” Patrick nods accordingly.

“Good. Well, it sounds like you do in fact have everything under control. I should get going if I plan on doing the same,” he states.

“Baby vampires?”

“Teeny bopper vampires.”

Jordan lightly rolls her eyes with a chuckle and Patrick tilts his head, smiling softly. “Before I go I should say that you look very…beautiful. And you must’ve sent that good run-in thing into the universe,” the vampire speaks up. The hybrid offers a pleasant smile in return. “Thanks. I must have,” she replies.

* * *

 

“They have sworn fealty to me. Something you never considered to do, all but once upon a time.”

Freya shrugs, disinterested. “Then let’s stop talking and finally get started here.” She goes to make the first move until Bridget comes up to grasp her arm. “Freya. We don’t know what those weapons can do. _Also_ are you really planning on ripping Hayden’s girlfriend apart? Think this through,” she commands firmly. Freya snatches her arm away without even looking at Bridget.

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for your advice. I know what I’m doing.”

She throws out a hand gesture that instantly snaps the witches’ necks. Unimpressed, Veda tilts her head as they all fall to the floor beside her. “Now Freya, that was not very nice.” Within a few seconds the witches climb to their feet. “I would advise you not to ever take me for a fool. You won’t be pulling the silk rug out from under me this time.” The witches’ eyes glow violet before shifting into a cloudy white color. Bridget puffs out a breath and begins removing her red bottom heels. “Take the demon down. My beloved Freya and the highborn are mine.”

Veda retrieves a rolled up leather whip from inside her peacoat and allows it to unwind to the floor. “Now would be the time to put those latent psychic abilities to good use,” Freya mutters while passing Bridget. “Real nice. You know I’m still learning how to balance it with magic,” the pureblood shoots back.

An arrow suddenly pierces Rebekah’s shoulder and she yanks it out before dodging another one. “Now is not the time to bicker girls.” She darts towards Lia but is instantly struck in the chest by the skull flail. Stumbling back she looks down at the blood on her dress before peering up at Maureen. The witch stares at the vampire blankly as her sisters join her in a line formation.

“Now you’ve done it. This dress was personally airlifted,” Rebekah quips. Her eyes darken as she hisses, baring her fangs.

While marching Freya sends a medium-sized angel statue flying at Veda’s head.  The brunette falls to the floor on her side and glares at her opponent. She quickly snaps her whip, striking Freya in the face twice leaving long bloody cuts on her cheeks. The leather cord wraps around her neck and brings her to her knees. Bridget holds out a hand to force Veda down on the floor and approaches Freya while summoning their shared dagger in her other palm.

“Just stab her in the heart and end this.”

Freya peers up at her friend and accepts the weapon to cut herself loose. After climbing to her feet she tramps over to her enemy, narrowing her eyes. Veda’s eyes widen in fear as she struggles against the strong telekinetic hold on her body. Closing her eyes she focuses.

 _Destroy the highborn_.

The mental order echoes inside of Isla’s head as she turns away from Rebekah to lock onto her new target. Loosening her grip on her dagger she wills her magic to launch it several feet into Bridget’s exposed stomach. The pureblood hunches forward due to the sudden impact. Looking down, she sees the black handle protruding from her abdomen before collapsing on the floor.

Newly freed, Veda throws out a hand to stop Freya’s advancement before forcing her to her knees with another gesture. She stands up and gradually increases the pressure on the blonde’s neck. “You were foolish to betray me, even more so to _challenge_ me.” Using her free hand she claims the dagger from her opponent with telekinesis. Freya grips her neck while choking but finally waves a hand, flinging Veda into the stone fountain.

Meanwhile, Rebekah dodges the swinging flail and materializes behind Maureen to swiftly snap her neck. Sensing another assailant she whirls around just in time to catch a hand aiming the silver stake at her heart. She speedily lifts Anming in the air, shielding herself from an arrow that pierces the witch’s back. Tossing her aside Rebekah zips over to impale Lia with the stake.

Blood spews from the brunette’s mouth as the vampire yanks the weapon out of her chest, letting her slump to the floor. Suddenly Rebekah is hit with an excruciating migraine. She drops the stake to hold her head and slowly turns to find Isla moving towards her. With a deep breath she fights through the pain and dashes over to grab the coven leader by the neck.

“Count your proximity to Hayden’s happiness a blessing.”

Rebekah grips the side of Isla’s head and snaps her neck with precision. Then she carefully lowers her body to the floor before scanning the courtyard. First, she spots Freya holding Veda against the fountain while raising a dagger to their enemy. Next, she discovers Bridget shaking on the floor alone. “No.” She bolts to the witch’s side and gently lifts her head up. Then she rests a hand on top of the two bloody hands gripping a protruding handle.

“Bridget. Don’t take it out okay?”

Bridget peers up at Rebekah while fighting to keep her eyes open. “It’s not too deep. I’ll survive if you pull it,” the former claims. “Listen to yourself. You’re bloody mad if you think I’m taking that chance,” the latter retorts. “No, you listen. It’s the magic hurting me. I can feel all the searing power and my wild guess is that they’ve channeled the sun.”

Rebekah stares at Bridget gravely. “That wicked bitch truly is trying to kill me.” The witch nods. “Pull it out and heal me,” she commands. Rebekah bites into her wrist before bringing it to Bridget’s lips. She watches as the witch closes her eyes and finally releases her grip on the dagger. Slightly wincing in anticipation she grabs the handle and yanks it out causing Bridget to shriek.

* * *

 

In the fading sunset, Sharon strides through a parking lot with a phone to her ear and a black purse on her shoulder. She’s donning a deep red embroidered dress that stops above the knee with a slit up her thigh. With two thin straps and a wide neckline the garment shows off some cleavage, her collarbone, and toned shoulders. Her hair is slicked back, her makeup is a simple nude look, her earrings are gold hoops, and her strappy heels are black.

“Hey. You’re not answering so this is me keeping you _posted_. I found a lead. And I’m chasing it down…sort of. When you get a chance I need you to look into a local entrepreneur named Jamie Albright. This could be a longshot, but I’m convinced that he’s our Sandman. Powerful but elusive, a mysterious personality of the city. So I’m on my way to do some looking around before the big night he’s hosting. It’s at his club in the Arts District, interestingly called Mirage. Apparently it’s very popular so you can’t miss it in a search.”

Sharon reaches her black sedan and unlocks the doors with her keys. She drops her purse into the passenger seat and closes the door before walking around to the driver’s side. “I already know what you’re going to say but just trust me on this. I’m as prepared as I can be so don’t worry. There are at least a dozen counter spells to charms of the music variety in my purse. I only want to observe his interactions and get a reading which means I don’t plan on staying too long. Just enjoy the comfort of your home, Kayla. Well, I’m going so I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Sharon removes the phone from her ear and looks down at the screen to end the call. With a sigh she opens her door and slips into the car. She starts up the engine and backs out of the parking space before pulling out of the lot. Unbeknownst to her, a man watches her every move from a black SUV parked on the street. After allowing some distance he begins to follow her.

* * *

 

Freya grits her teeth while bearing the weight of ending the fight. “You’ve went after my family, disrupted my life.” She shakes her head, hand trembling. “You’re a monster and I won’t allow you to breathe after this.” Veda stares at the dagger near her face before piercing ferocious green eyes. “I would enjoy nothing more than to witness your true potential,” she proclaims.

“I suppose your long forgotten aunt would feel the same despite her pathetic envy. Look at you now, with that identical flame of hatred and spite in your eyes. Perhaps you were always meant to follow in her infamous footsteps and finish what she started. It is in your blood, little bird.”

Something inside Freya snaps as she dunks Veda’s head into the fountain water. Everything else shifts as she holds the woman down and watches her thrash about. A part of her lurking in the shadow of her humanity emerges in pleasure. As the life drains from her opponent the power coursing through her is exhilarating.

The thrill of having another soul at her mercy uplifts her until suddenly it sickens her to the core. She abruptly releases Veda and backs away with wide eyes. The brunette springs up with a gasp and falls to the floor, soaked hair sticking to her face. Freya exhales in shame as Veda slumps against the fountain in a coughing fit.

“Irretia venefica.”

An exhausted Rebekah watches from above as Bridget hovers the black dagger over Isla’s incapacitated body. “You might want to stick me in one of those while you’re at it. If I’m not mistaken I can feel the telltale sign of werewolf venom coursing through my veins. Delusional Bex is not a pretty sight.” Bridget peers up at the vampire, grinning. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she quips. Rebekah smiles until she’s struck in the neck by an arrow. Sighing, she pulls it out and hurls it quick enough to impale Lia’s eye from several feet away.

Her own weary eyes settle on an incredulous gaze reserved for her. “What? I have my father’s temper.” Bridget shakes her head as she stands up next to the blonde. “The entrapment spell is done. With the power I’ve channeled from the dagger it should hold for a while. Now we handle them,” she states, looking to the three witches closing in on them.

“I’m on it.”

Rebekah darts over to grab Lia before claiming her arrows and tossing her in the air. In another swift move she tugs on the chain of Maureen’s flail, swinging the witch across the courtyard. Suddenly, her muscles become rigid and slow her down significantly. Anming takes the window to impale Rebekah in the heart and thrusts the stake deeper as the original parts her lips in shock.

“Rebekah!”

Bridget and Freya hurry over to the scene, the latter waving a hand to forcefully shove Anming into a wall. The former arrives first and drops to her knees to hold Rebekah up in her arms. She takes notice of the original’s greying legs and pulls the stake from her heart before ripping the protection chain from around her own neck.

“Hey, it’s your turn to play the damsel. Feed on me.”

A weak Rebekah shakes her head in protest as the grey creeps up to her neck. Freya lowers onto her knees beside the pair. “Rebekah, you have to. I can’t lose you,” she asserts, shaking her head. Without hesitation, Bridget lifts the vampire’s head to rest in the crook of her neck. “I trust you remember? It will be okay if you just feed. _Please_.” Freya anxiously blows out a breath and after a moment Rebekah finally sinks her fangs into soft flesh. Bridget winces a little at the foreign sensation but allows the blonde to snake an arm around her neck for support.

Soon the liveliness of Rebekah’s pale skin is restored, prompting her to create some distance in a wink. Standing several feet away she exhales calmly as her dilated pupils gradually shrink. Bridget and Freya stare at Rebekah in relief as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

* * *

 

Freya, newly dressed in light blue jeans and a coffee drop-shoulder sweater, stares at Veda quietly. They’re currently in the dungeon where the antagonist is sitting in a white circle with shackled wrists. “Are you meant to offer me more than the hideous iron bracelets and unflattering candlelight, or do you simply wish to admire my passionless eyes?”

“You’re lucky you’re even still alive. Don’t push it, Veda.”

“Yes, indeed I am. I do wonder why I’m here conversing with you when I recall a rather vicious resolution as I was staring down a blade. Monsters should not be left breathing under your watch yet here you are…faltering in your need to protect your precious family.”

An irritated Freya crouches down to Veda’s eye level. “I kept you breathing to ensure my family’s safety. Right now I have four powerful witches upstairs, each hellbent on destroying my sister because of you and _your_ vicious resolution. Obviously I have my ways of reversing your ugly effect on people, but what I need is to break their connection to the Ancestors. You’re going to tell me how to do that.”

Veda tilts her head. “I’m afraid not, little bird. Even if I did possess a cowardly bone in my body this simply cannot be undone. My covenant with the Ancestors was sealed in blood and they wish to see satisfying results before relinquishing those witches,” she reclaims, sitting back against the stone platform behind her.

“I suppose you will be making use of those baneful heirlooms after all. _Death_ is the only way to combat your enemies and it will take powerful magic to do so. In the meantime, might I suggest the dilatory herbs? I do enjoy savoring a good demise.” Freya clenches her jaw inciting a smirk from Veda. She stands up and begins walking to the gate, jerking it open to leave in frustration.

“All’s fair in love and war, Freya. Remember that!”

* * *

 

Under the moonlit sky, Keelin carries a snoozing Mikaela through the parking lot. Hayley and Jordan follow closely behind, the former glancing over at the teenager consumed by her phone. “Did you have fun with us uncool adults? I’m sure you had somewhere better to be on a Saturday night.” Jordan peers up from her messages and smiles. “Actually…it was pretty fun. Once I got past the embarrassing dancing with my aunt I met a lot of nice people. Liam’s mom is so pretty, and the way she talks about traveling the world? Amazing,” she gushes.

Hayley chuckles. “Yeah. There’s an unexplainable goddess aura around that woman. I just thought it was me,” she quips, inciting more laughter. “So traveling the world. Is that something you want to do?” Jordan shrugs. “To be honest I never really thought about it until today. Your life is usually laid out for you as a French Quarter witch. Practicing magic, going to school, dedicating nearly every waking moment to your coven, teaching your craft, upholding tradition. But I guess…I’m a special case. A shapeshifting exception to the rule.”

Hayley offers a small smile before sucking her bottom lip in thought. “I know a thing or two about feeling like an outsider. I didn’t even know I was a werewolf until I was thirteen years old,” she reveals. Jordan raises her eyebrows. “Seriously,” she asks, gaining a nod of confirmation. “No lie. I was adopted as a baby after my birth parents were murdered. Scrappy Hayley Marshall was set to live a normal, semi-charmed human life. Well, up until her first full moon as a triggered wolf anyway. Let’s just say that my adoptive parents really valued their cheap furniture, over their weird shapeshifting daughter that is.”

Jordan bites her lip regretfully. “Sorry. That must’ve really sucked for you,” she offers. Hayley gazes at her softly. “It’s okay. And yeah, it did really suck. But being so young and suddenly forced to fend for myself gave me an unlikely opportunity. It’s crazy to think I had been all over the country by the time I was nineteen. And although it was scary at times, unbelievably lonely at others, I got to experience these incredible moments of…life. Night runs in the mountains, peaceful swims on the lake. Pure freedom to explore,” she muses on. Jordan beams at the wonderful image.

“That’s not usually the whole story that gets pitched about werewolves,” she remarks.

“I could say the same about witches.”

“Valid point made.”

Hayley laughs. “Not everyone accepts who they are, but I’ve met a lot of wolves that taught me how important it is to embrace that wild and free part of ourselves. Just unchaining yourself from society, unleashing your naturally rebellious spirit. There’s no other feeling like it, being one with who you are and being a part of something bigger than yourself. It took me a long time to find my pack but once I did I finally started to feel complete. Maybe you never knew you had that missing piece, but I can tell you how much it matters. You’re a lucky kid because you have the opportunity to choose who you want to be on _your_ terms. You have one of the best packs there is so…just don’t forget that okay?”

Jordan nods in understanding. “I won’t,” she affirms. Hayley supplies an inspiring smile before nodding in response. A few feet ahead of them Keelin grins to herself as she points a keychain at Bridget’s SUV. After successfully unlocking the doors she holds Mikaela’s back securely.

* * *

 

Within the confines of the courtyard, each Garden District witch is trapped in a personal boundary spell. Standing before Isla is Bridget, now cleaned up in a light grey sweatshirt and charcoal ripped skinny jeans. Her eyes are closed as she waves burning sage in a circular motion. “Expurgare animus, expurgare animus. Expurgare…”

The whispering of the Ancestors infiltrates her senses just before Isla bangs on the forcefield between them. Bridget opens her eyes while stepping back. “Oh…kay. Next contestant.” Moving over a bit she stops in front of Maureen and exhales deeply before waving the sage around. “Expurgare animus, expurgare animus.” She begins to feel lightheaded and almost mistakes it for her own discomfort until glass shatters. Spinning around she sees Rebekah, in a beige cable knit sweater and dark blue jeans, sitting on the couch with her head in her hand.

Bridget hastily comes over, setting the sage on the coffee table before plopping down beside the blonde. “Hey. You should lay down,” she advises, taking her hand from her face. Rebekah exhales sharply. “Nonsense. I’ll be fine for another hour or two, _presumably_ all thanks to your blood delaying the process,” she retorts. The couple shares a soft smile. “I know it’s just in your nature to protect first and consider the consequences later but…I don’t want to become reliant on you in that way. It’s far too dangerous.” Bridget discerns Rebekah’s fear until Freya comes tramping into the courtyard, purposely breaking the quiet moment with a bitter humph.

“There’s no way to break their connection to the Ancestors without spilling blood. Given how powerful they are those boundary spells won’t hold them forever. So if and when they get out, protecting my sister is a no-brainer.”

Bridget stands up, firmly opposed. “You can’t just kill them. They’ve already lost autonomy over their own bodies, Freya,” she argues. “You think I don’t know that? I never said that these were the easy choices but when it comes down to my family…” Freya pauses with a stern look. “There is no other choice. Veda told me that the Ancestors want my sister dead at all costs. I can stop them with powerful magic and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. With or without your help.” Bridget tilts her head while gazing at the Viking seriously.

“So that’s it huh? We’re just taking Veda’s word for it now? _Completely_ ignoring the fact that she wants me _and_ Rebekah dead. Oh and she was even willing to go through you to achieve that so sorry if I’m not jumping at every claim she makes.”

“Convincing us to kill the witches devoted to her plan wouldn’t benefit her. And I know when she’s lying to my face so at least I have that bit of assurance.”

Swiftly, Freya marches to the stairs as Bridget sighs knowingly. “This is senseless, Freya! We could at least try to avoid a bloody death toll tonight,” Rebekah yells. “I have work to do, sister. You two can either join me or stay out of my way,” Freya throw back. Bridget raises a hand to stop her with telekinesis.

“Why don’t we just get to what this is really about? You’re pissed off and now you’re reverting back to the woman behind the mask. The problem is, everything goes to hell when she’s in charge. So let’s hash this out now, talk to me. Yell at me, berate me. Do whatever you need to do, Freya. Anything to keep us together as a team.”

Freya turns around slowly, presenting a neutral expression. “How long,” she asks simply. Bridget instantly shrinks with guilt. “It’s complicated but…we admitted to our feelings for each other over five months ago. We’ve spent some time together in New York, but nothing was set in stone until Rebekah came here.”

Freya tilts her head. “What’s so complicated about that? It seems pretty clear to me that you’ve been going behind my back and charming your way into my sister’s heart for the last several months. So were you waiting all along, or did you decide to try your luck just as soon as I was fighting for my life and the life of my niece,” she questions harshly.

Rebekah moves to stand in front of her sister. “Freya. Don’t make this into something it’s not. We’re trying to be honest with you about what we feel.” Freya rolls her eyes. “You didn’t choose honesty for months now, Rebekah. And you let Bridget get under your skin like she tends to do with the most well-meaning people. Honestly I couldn’t care less about the feelings that she thinks she has right now.”

She shakes her head before fixing her gaze to Bridget. “You’re incapable of sustaining a real relationship and you know it. You stood here, looking me in the eye every day while actively getting her hopes up for something that will never last. Keelin can make her own decision on the matter but after this is resolved I don’t ever want to see you here in any circumstance. Do you understand that, Bridget?”

“Stop it, Freya.”

Freya presents a mirthless grin, ignoring Rebekah’s command. “I’m glad we hashed this out. Now if that’s all, I have to go digging through what’s left of Dahlia’s treasure trove. I mean since I’m the only one taking care of yet another threat against my sister,” she claims, spiteful.

Bridget swallows her words. “I know that it was wrong to keep this from you but if you do this you’re just as wrong. You mean the world to me even if you see me as an enemy right now,” she proclaims. Freya shakes her head while shrugging. “Good thing I don’t care to be right. And even better, I don’t care to mean anything to you.”

Rebekah turns to see Bridget nodding with disappointment. “Bridget don’t,” she pleads. “No one dies today. I’m gonna make sure of it.” In a flash Bridget vanishes and Rebekah huffs out before whipping around to Freya. “Do you see what you’ve done now,” the original groans, narrowing her eyes. The witch gives her younger sibling an unapologetic gaze while raising her chin.

* * *

 

Hues of purple and blue greet Sharon as she treads into the low lit nightclub. Scanning the bustling establishment she concludes that it’s packed to near capacity. A large hourglass hangs in the center of the club with a statuesque woman posing inside of it. She’s in a sheer body suit glistening like the mounds of sand at her ankles. While passing by Sharon peers up at the fantastic structure before settling her eyes on the elevated stage. She spots Jamie, in a black tailored suit, being prepped by a woman in a sleek black dress. A server moves past her while holding up a tray prompting her to smoothly claim one of the pink, hourglass-shaped cocktails. Onstage a spotlight shines upon Jamie as he steps forward, bringing a microphone to his lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen. While the night is still young, I would like to indulge your curiosity with a tale consigned to oblivion. Over a thousand years ago there lived a bright, poised young man in a mountainous village. He was doted on by his loving parents and the people of his village were all very fond of him, for his singing brought endless joy and comfort. It was said that just the humming of a simple melody could enchant even the most coldest of hearts and restless of souls.”

Sharon finds her place in the crowd while slightly lifting her chin in interest.

“Everyday he would explore the rainforest where his serene voice was carried by the wind as if it was the invisible force itself. And it was there one day he discovered that he was indeed more special than anyone could’ve imagined. He could feel the vibrations of every living thing around him. Suddenly, his existence meant hearing distant frequencies, seeing what had yet to be seen, and sensing the unknown. Even moving the very foundation of earth with just the power of thought, will.”

Jamie taps his temple twice using a pointer finger.

“The young man was truly strong, but his people were a bit close-minded, primitive in their outlook. Fearing what they had yet to understand, they brought him to a beautiful beach just before sunrise to appease their ancestors with a sacrifice. But…in a twist of fate he managed to escape by manipulating the pure white sand of the beach into a black whirlwind. Within the confines of that darkness the village people bore witness to the past, present, and future of others like him. And their common perception of time was forever altered as the once cherished young man never returned to the island.”

Jamie scans the crowd before locking his eyes on Sharon.

“So as the story goes, I welcome you here tonight to join me with an open mind, and to embrace the unknown. For one night only we will take a glimpse into the future and journey deep within our subconscious selves. Who knows, maybe you will find your true strength in the sands. As your honored host, I kindly thank you for coming.”

A breeze passes through as the lights come on and a white substance falls from above. Music begins booming in the club and the crowd rejoices as Jamie smirks at a determined Sharon.

* * *

 

Holding her head, Hayden paces within the narrow space between the coffee table and the couch. A sudden bang draws her eyes to the door as she halts in her tracks. “Hayden? Are you in there?” The bar owner recognizes the muffled voice without effort. “Bridget I’m trapped,” she calls back. In seconds the front door is blasted open presenting the pureblood standing in the doorway.

Hayden stares at Bridget, mouth agape before hastening over to wrap her arms around her shoulders. “I was so worried about you. I’m glad you’re okay,” she expresses anxiously. The shorter woman holds her back but frowns as she pulls away to examine her. “Says the woman I just found trapped in a boundary spell. I tried calling a million times, Hayden. What’s going on?”

Hayden bites her lip and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what Isla got herself involved in, not until it was already too late. When I tried to warn you guys the Ancestors and Veda took hold of her. She knocked me out and left me here,” she explains. Bridget rubs her back comfortingly. “We’re okay. Veda brought them to the compound but thankfully everyone was still at the wedding reception. Freya, Rebekah, and I handled it,” she reassures. Dark brown eyes question her silently.

“Is she…?”

“For now she’s unkillable under some freaky magical trance. I have her in a boundary spell she’s just dying to get out of.”

“A special brand of magic. Before Isla was possessed she told me that her ancestors united their magic with Veda’s for this. That’s how both parties would get what they wanted.”

“Well that explains the advanced zombie state. If Isla told you everything then you need to come back with me now. Veda claims that death is the only way to stop it and Freya is looking for the weapon strong enough as we speak.” Hayden gives Bridget a critical gaze before nodding.

* * *

 

After opening the dungeon gate Freya strides over to Veda and crouches down in front of her. She presents the weapon in her possession. “This dagger is imbued with both Bridget’s magic and my own. Dahlia and Esther’s ashes, the cursed remains of a reaper. All I need is your blood to sever that link you were talking about.”

“And you believe this to be your solution? A child’s toy cursed by the fragments of wretched witches and an abominable ghoul.”

“Do you have any better ideas? Perhaps a convenient method to contribute?”

Veda stares at Freya wearily. “I thought so.” The Viking grabs one of the brunette’s forearms and slices into her palm. Then she aggressively lets go before standing upright and examining the blood on the blade. “A simple spell to bind it should be enough.” She licks her lips while summoning her magic. “Alliges duplicia.” The deep red liquid begins to seep into the silver dagger. Once it’s complete Freya looks down on Veda. “Thanks for the help,” she quips sarcastically. Without another word she heads towards the gate on a mission.

“The longer you delay the inevitable, the more difficult it will be.”

Freya releases an incredulous sigh before spinning around to face her prisoner. “I have no doubts about protecting my sister so save the wise counsel alright,” she commands, tilting her head. Veda imitates the mannerism while scrutinizing the blonde. “You and I both know those witches aren’t the true concern here. You hesitated in battle and spared me out of conflicting emotions, even as I resorted to uprooting your darkest fear. You will not execute me because there is much turmoil inside you, little bird,” she declares.

“Your time on this earth is limited, you can be sure of that. I have no reason to keep you around after this and just about every reason to send you back to the hole you crawled out of.”

Veda lifts her chin softly. “Yes, but still you find it not so easy to let go. Why is that,” she questions knowingly. Freya shakes her head furiously. “I don’t need any more of your mind games.” She swiftly turns on her heels to leave. “You do need me, Freya! You’re afraid. Of yourself, of the cruelty in this world. Fear and pain have always been parts of you but now they both threaten to break everything. The very thought of the life growing inside you is breaking down your defenses!”

Freya finally releases the breath she’s been holding all day as she closes her eyes. “How do you know for sure,” she asks softly. Veda gives the Viking a gentle look, despite being met with her back. “A mother’s intuition. I saw something in your eyes and sensed it,” she answers. Inhaling sharply, Freya opens her eyes and spins around to face the brunette.

Upstairs, Rebekah wearily examines Isla from outside the magical barrier. Hayley strides into the courtyard followed by Keelin carrying Mikaela, and a tired Jordan. “Rebekah! What the hell is going on here,” the oldest hybrid calls. The original spins around sluggishly to greet the new arrivals. “The short version? Freya knows about my relationship with Bridget, her Mommy Dearest has went above and beyond to kill me. And now, both Freya and Bridget are on a race to prove how wrong the other is about what can be done to remedy the situation. Didn’t I send you all this in a text?”

“Not quite. Half of it was indecipherable.”

“Apologies. Thanks to that dastardly she-devil I’m currently succumbing to the effects of potent werewolf venom.”

Hayley reaches Rebekah and takes her by the hand to lead her over to the couch. “Come on and take it easy. You’ll be working up a bad fever soon,” the former remarks. With Mikaela still sleeping in her arms, Keelin looks at Jordan. “Bed. I’ll come check on you in a minute.” The teenager nods and obediently moves towards the stairs. Her aunt redirects her gaze to the pair on the couch.

“Where are they?”

“I’d imagine my determined girlfriend is gathering her witchy tools whilst your lovely wife delivers torture to Veda in the dungeon,” Rebekah quips, holding her sweaty forehead. “I’ll…go get you a cold compress,” Hayley chimes. She rises from the couch and hastens to the kitchen while Keelin sighs in disbelief.

* * *

 

At her post near the bar Sharon observes Jamie chatting with a few men and women in his VIP section up above. The woman that was previously onstage with the owner leans over to whisper something in his ear. After a second she stands up, smooths out her dress, and walks away. Sharon visually follows the woman’s trail and upon noticing the staircase in her path, she heads there to meet her. Once her target has made it to the first floor she purposely stumbles into her, grasping her arms for support. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” She adds a slight slur to her speech as a final touch.

The woman smiles politely. “It’s okay. Wild night huh?” Sharon focuses in on her energy but receives little to nothing as if her magic is locked out. Disappointed, she provides a tipsy grin as she relinquishes the stranger. “Yeah. This place is just so amazing.” The woman rubs her arm affectionately. “Well be careful and enjoy the party okay?” She slips past Sharon who instantly begins a new search. From a distance Alex’s henchman watches the consul intently before looking down at his phone.

 

**ME**

_The Queen is definitely snooping around. She knows something._

 

**ALEX**

_I know how she is when she’s on a mission. Call me ASAP._

 

The henchman tucks his phone away in his pocket and glances at Sharon once more before moving in the opposite direction. The lights go low as the witch spies Jamie making his way to another staircase. She starts cutting through the enthusiastic crowd until she comes across a woman obstructing her path. All movement ceases as her eyes are acquainted with deep green orbs. The mysterious woman before her is in a single long sleeved, black bodycon dress that leaves her abs exposed. Her skin is fair yet something about her is uniquely exotic.

As she sways sensuously to the bouncy club beat her dark wavy locks fall onto her sleeveless shoulder. Her delicate features, under the current pink hue of lights, only tug one unforgettable name from the pool of Sharon’s memory. However, the witch has virtually no time to accept the haunting resemblance as she’s quickly scooped up from behind by two brawny men in security t-shirts.

* * *

 

Hayden hustles into the courtyard with Bridget who’s carrying a large book tucked underneath her arm. She stops in front of Isla, immediately eyeing her with concern. Determined footsteps alert the two women to Freya approaching with a dagger in her hand. “Why did you bring her here,” the latter questions. Before Bridget can respond Hayden steps forward to stop the blonde.

“She brought me here because you were planning to _kill_ someone I care for without even considering other options.”

Freya tilts her head at her frowning ex. “There’s no other way,” she sighs out. “And even if there is, who knows how long it could take to figure out. You know there’s no compromising when it comes to my family. I’m sorry.” Hayden snorts while shaking her head. “I’m not accepting that. If you want to hurt Isla then you’re gonna have to get through me. Simple as that,” she asserts.

“Why are you fighting so hard for someone who has proven just how untrustworthy she is? I know that she aligned herself with Veda even before the Ancestors possessed her.”

“She thought she was protecting her mother! Or did Veda not mention the blackmail?”

Keelin makes her way down the stairs and comes over to the scene brewing. “What’s going on? Another day, another warzone in my home,” she asks, looking between them. Freya lifts her chin. “What blackmail,” she questions. Hayden sighs regretfully. “Isla came to see me because she didn’t want to be a part of Veda’s revenge. She came clean about everything from these past few weeks. The blackmail, secret meetings, harassment and coercion from _your_ adoptive mother. Somehow Veda found out the truth about the Matthews. If Isla’s coven didn’t create the weapons to capture Rebekah, she was going to expose her mother in hopes of turning everyone against her, including you. So she was going to make the weapons and go about her life…until she realized my connection to your family. She was already in too deep. Veda even held her aunt captive and killed her yesterday, Freya.”

Freya stares at Hayden, quietly taking the information in. Keelin suddenly steps forward. “What did Isla’s mother do to my niece’s family,” she questions, firm. Dark brown eyes flit to her. “The Matthews were outspoken and radical when it came to protecting the French Quarter. Other witches feared the wrath of a growing vampire population so…Isla’s mother took it upon herself to betray them by helping the vampires against them. She also cursed their daughter, ensuring she wouldn’t follow in their footsteps.” Keelin gapes at Hayden, processing the revelation.

“Lucy,” she breathes.

“Well, I only see more reason to do this my way. Your girlfriend was willing to harm my sister in order to protect a traitor to my niece’s family.”

Freya moves ahead but is halted by Hayden once again. “Oh, don’t act like you haven’t protected guilty people out of love! Should you have been abandoned and sacrificed all those months ago based on that? Be reasonable, Freya,” the latter requests, frustrated. “This isn’t about me. And I don’t want to hurt you so move out of the way, Hayden. You can do much better than a puppet, trust me,” Freya retorts. Hayden laughs humorlessly.

“Honestly I find myself saying the same. I mean I sure do know how to pick ‘em don’t I? At this moment I’m staring down the woman that dumped me just to get married to another woman not even two weeks later. All _because_ she wants to murder the first emotionally available person I’ve been with in god knows how long. Yeah, Isla wasn’t honest with me at the exact moment that she should’ve been, but neither were you Freya. And if she deserves _death_ for doing whatever it takes to protect family then maybe you should look in the mirror too. I’m not saying that she’s absolved of any wrongdoing okay? I’m just asking you to look for another way out instead of jumping to Viking witch fury.”

Freya stares at Hayden with an unreadable expression.

* * *

 

Away from the noise of the party, the two security guards drag Sharon into a private lounge. Abstract paintings are plastered on the holographic walls, the pink wrap-around sofa is decorated with puffy red pillows, and each personal table is littered with expensive bottles of liquor. Jamie stands there waiting patiently. “You can let her go now, thank you.” He watches as the consul angrily snatches her arms from the men.

“Who are you,” she questions, frowning.

“Well that’s one way to bruise a man’s ego.”

“I know what you’re capable of. The musical comas, the hypnosis, and using that mysterious dark object of yours. So why are you suddenly putting down criminals? Besides the riches you don’t really strike me as a Bruce Wayne type figure.”

Jamie tilts his head, grinning with pleasure. “Wow. I have to express how flattered I am by your dedication. I wasn’t sure what to expect from you tonight,” he remarks. Sharon knits her brows in confusion. “Divination every morning. Truly involuntary but also very necessary in my life. I was intrigued by the vision of the most powerful woman in New Orleans walking into my humble nightclub with a fierce purpose.”

Jamie crosses the short distance to stand in front of Sharon. “So first, my question to you is…who do _you_ think I am, Miss Vance?” Amber orbs examine him closely. “You’re the young man from that story you told. Some old witch that learned to live forever at a price. I’m also inclined to believe you have an interesting relationship with power,” the consul states.

“You’re impressing me thoroughly. Maybe even enough to share something…intimate.”

Reaching up, Jamie brushes a thumb against Sharon’s cheek while inspecting her. “I’m not a true grit anti-hero. Neither am I a troubled witch basking in the glory of immortality achieved. My reasons for remaining out of sight are matters of _personal_ preference. I’m sure your people understand my plight with that instance of generational trauma. Ever stumbled across psychic genocide in your magical studies, Miss Vance?” Light brown eyes widen in realization. “You’re a psychic,” Sharon questions for confirmation.

“Since 883 A.D. Though I was raised in a community led by those with Nature’s blessing, I come from a bloodline of humans. My abilities didn’t fully present themselves until I was seventeen and not long after…the shamans that helped bring me into the world sought to take me out. That was their misguided poetic justice.”

Sharon tugs Jamie’s hand from her face. “So you have bad history with witches. Now I’m really confused as to why you’d even bother eradicating the drugs hurting them. Why even live in a city ruled by them,” the former questions. “I’m not a simple man but the way in which I survive is. Every living being requires some form of nourishment to sustain itself. In the case of my immortal spirit, I absorb psychic energy for maintenance. The process is harmless to those around me, I assure you. I’ve had plenty of time to master good judgement and to recognize the limits.”

Jamie spins around and strolls over to plop down on the sofa. He extends his arms out on top of the furniture while regarding Sharon. “New Orleans was the ideal place to settle on. Bright, creative, and powerful minds constantly shifting and reorganizing at amazing rates. Typically, those are the minds that ensure a high concentration of psychic energy. So here I am, a few years later…under the declining rule of witches. I had no choice but to intervene once I saw the _devastation_ descending upon my fare.”

“Practicing decent morals for the sake of protecting your own self-interest. Sounds like a classic anti-hero to me.”

Jamie chuckles lightly with a simple shrug. “Sorry if I’m not quite the enigmatic figure you were envisioning. Folk tales tend to sensationalize ordinary people,” he remarks, charming. Sharon snorts and narrows her eyes, attempting to read him. “Yeah. _Clearly_ you’re not bringing anyone sweet dreams.” She treads over to stand above him as the familiar chill crawls up her spine. “Everything about your essence feels cold. If you’re telling me all this you must be ready to get rid of me.” Jamie slowly lifts his chin to stare up at Sharon, exploring her bright eyes with purpose.

“On the contrary, I have every intention of keeping you close Miss Vance. The mind behind those eyes is incontestably exquisite.”

After a beat, Sharon brandishes a dagger from the thigh holster hidden underneath her dress. She aims for Jamie’s chest but is instantly immobilized in her offensive stance. The psychic tilts his head while gazing at the frozen witch, and in a low hum he fills her ears with a familiar melody. Sharon’s breathing picks up as she panics at the sound of her mother’s favorite record. She struggles against the strong hold on her body until her muscles gradually become weightless. The last image she sees is Jamie’s murky eyes shifting to an electric blue as everything fades to darkness.

* * *

 

In the middle of the courtyard Freya and Hayden hold an intense gaze, neither backing down. “If we put our heads together we can fix this. No casualties.” The Viking silently considers the proposal but is torn between following her instincts and placing her trust in the brunette. Keelin looks between the former lovers before settling on her wife. “She’s right, Freya. There’s always another way. We can figure this out,” she affirms. Freya tightens her grip on the dagger while searching Hayden’s anxious eyes. “Freya,” the latter yells in frustration.

Finally, the blonde steps back with a shake of her head. “Fine. We’ll find another way. Okay?” Her ex nods quickly with relief. “Okay.” Bridget begins striding over to the courtyard table. “Good. We don’t have much time but with enough eyes searching we can find the right spell.” Setting the grimoire down, she pulls the cover open to get started. Keelin, Hayden, and Freya opt to join the pureblood until the book is violently flung from her possession. As a powerful wind sweeps through the courtyard, all four of them whip around to discover the Garden District witches escaping their designated boundaries.

“It’s too late! I have to stop them!”

“No!”

Freya waves a hand, forcefully guiding Hayden back into a wall before marching over to the witches. “Gratuit fra lokk. Gratuit fra lokk,” she chants passionately, extending her arms. The witches groan as their bones crack and grab at their aching heads. “Arràcher soit je, arràcher soit je,” they counter. Freya halts the spell, grabbing her own head as a lethal migraine assaults her. With an animalistic growl Keelin pounces on Maureen, successfully weakening the attack on her soulmate. Lia’s neck is swiftly snapped, and she falls to the floor as Hayley materializes in her place. Isla and Anming continue to overpower Freya causing her to bleed from her eyes. With a wave of their free hands they hurl Keelin and Hayley across the courtyard.

“Stagnare hostes! Subsisto ventus!”

As Bridget storms on the witches, their movement ceases against their will and the ferocious airstream rattling the courtyard settles. Freya takes the opportunity to ready her dagger, but Hayden abruptly grasps her wrist, easily flipping her onto her back before disarming her. The Viking gasps from the sudden impact while her ex-girlfriend holds her down. “Hurry Bridget!” The pureblood moves past them to firmly grab Isla and Anming’s wrists simultaneously. Shaking her head she quickly racks her brain for an appropriate spell.

“Relaxa rena. Somnus. Relaxa rena! Somnus!”

While Bridget continues to chant Hayley appears in a blur to shove Hayden. “Back off! She’s pregnant for god’s sake!” As the hybrid pulls Freya up to stand, the bar owner looks on in shock. The pureblood abruptly stops her work at the news, unwittingly drawing energy from her subjects. Their cloudy eyes return to their natural color before they both collapse on the floor. Hayden scurries over to Isla’s side and carefully lifts her head. “Isla? Can you hear me,” she frantically questions. Bridget furiously shakes her head while dropping at the coven leader’s other side. “I didn’t finish the spell. I don’t know what happened,” she explains worriedly.

“Freya?”

Everyone turns their heads to the source of the shaky call as desperate green eyes meet wide brown ones from a distance. Keelin tilts her head while slowly approaching her wife. “You’re…pregnant,” she questions, stunned. Before Freya can properly respond Anming springs into a sitting position. Isla opens her eyes, gaining the attention of her protector. “Hayden,” she breathes. Hayden brings the witch in close, sighing into her wild tresses.

Bridget inspects her warm, glowing hands. “Guys. I think I’ve found that solution to our problem,” she remarks. Everyone gazes at the energy flowing up the pureblood’s neck and circulating her head. The shockwave-like explosion on her features amaze her friends as a flicker of electric blue manifests within her irises.

* * *

 

Exiting the kitchen, Hayden carries a glass of water to where Isla lies on the couch. “How’s that head,” she asks, offering the drink. The witch swings her legs over to sit upright before accepting the glass. “Still…weird but definitely better.” She gulps down the water and sets the glass on the circular table. “I can’t really complain when I’m still breathing because of you. Even after all I’ve put you through.”

Hayden gives Isla an empathetic look before lowering onto her knees and cradling her face. “Don’t. I understand that making the decent choice wasn’t so simple. What matters now is that you told me everything so that we could have a chance to stop Veda. And we did,” she states. The coven leader searches dark eyes as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“I’ve failed you, my aunt. And now my mother is in real danger. I don’t want you to stick around for this. Go to Scotland and be happy, Hayden.”

Hayden shakes her head. “Stop. Okay? The last thing I need is another ‘setting you free’ type of breakup. I’m here for you and nothing’s changing that. So for now you’ll just go to sleep. We have time to figure things out with Freya and her family.” She senses the hesitation and fear as Isla licks her lips. “I know they won’t use violence to harm your mother, but you have to understand that she can’t escape punishment for what she’s done. She destroyed a family and that choice impacted an innocent girl. The Mikaelsons are gonna want justice, Isla.”

“I know.”

Hayden examines Isla for a moment before leaning in to rest their foreheads together.

* * *

 

Sharon opens her eyes and thrusts herself up while breathing rapidly. Scanning the dark, blue-tinted area she realizes that she’s in Lo’s master suite. The sound of heavy footsteps throws her into another panic as she claws her way out of the king-sized bed. She desperately attempts to summon her magic to no avail before racing towards the walk-in closet to hide. After burrowing as deep as she can in the endless space she holds her breath. When the footsteps suddenly stop at the door she snatches a shoe from the shelf above her head.

“I have a lethal weapon that I’m not afraid to use!”

All is still, save for Sharon’s labored breathing as she grips the single heel in her hand. The closet door creaks open and in strolls Lo wearing a formfitting black turtleneck, high waisted jeans, and black boots. Her dark hair is styled in its natural waves cascading down her shoulders. She keeps her distance with a purposely neutral expression.

“The Weitzman stiletto. Wise choice considering the _very_ lethal injection hidden inside the heel.”

Sharon allows the shoe to drop from her hand while gawking at the woman. “Lo. This…this isn’t my dream version of you is it,” she questions slowly. Lo knits her brows. “You have dreams about me?” A roar of thunder shakes the mansion and causes Sharon to lose her balance. Lo disappears in a black fog before materializing in front of the witch to steady her. Now just inches away light brown eyes bore into chestnut pools. Before she can stop herself Sharon reaches up to carefully place a hand on Lo’s cheek. Her eyes roam over the delicate features etched into her memory.

“The last time I saw you I was setting you on fire. It’s _impossible_ not to see your face every time I close my eyes.”

Lo stares at Sharon before pulling the hand from her cheek. “You shouldn’t be here, Sharon.” The witch shakes her head. “No. Don’t push me away again. You don’t get to do that after everything,” she argues, on the verge of tears. “Listen to me. Since I’ve been gone…” The older woman exhales sharply. “Since I’ve been in _hell_. I’ve never been able to reach you, _never_. Your presence here could never be a good thing.” Sharon tilts her head with a disheartened expression. “You’ve been in hell this whole time,” she questions softly.

“I was never the devout churchgoer but my eternal home fits the torturous depiction. You can’t be with me. Not in life and certainly not in death, Sharry.”

“I can’t just go back. A thousand-year-old psychic put me here. My body is in a supernatural coma, Lo.”

Sighing in frustration, Lo looks elsewhere. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy being Queen okay? Just tell me how this works. You’re stuck with me for the time being,” Sharon cries. Serious brown eyes fall on her for a moment. “You have to do _everything_ I say no matter what. Technically you’re not dead but your consciousness is still free. If any Wanderers come to know this bit of information we won’t be able to stop them from inhabiting your earthly body. Do you understand,” Lo questions fiercely. Sharon quickly nods in confirmation. “Wanderers,” she asks, uncertain. Lo lifts her chin.

“Other second class demons like me.”

* * *

 

In the safety of her own bed, Rebekah lies in between Bridget’s outstretched legs while fighting an intense fever. As she mumbles incoherently her girlfriend is propped up against the headboard, gently soothing her hot skin with a damp rag. “Bridget. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please.” Frowning, Bridget tilts her head at the moaning vampire. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” She observes Rebekah tossing in her sleep for a moment longer before smoothing golden locks back. Bowing her head she closes her eyes to concentrate on the mind within her hands.

_In what feels like a fraction of a second she opens her eyes to find herself standing in her former master bathroom. A sorrowful noise filters in through the cracked door leading to the connected bedroom. Moving forward she reaches out to push the barrier wider and discovers Rebekah standing by the bed. From Bridget’s angle the weeping blonde is hovering over a body obscured by her own form._

_“Rebekah.”_

_She waits patiently as her girlfriend stops crying and slowly spins around. Her eyes instantly meet the horrific sight of blood painted all over Rebekah’s face and light beige sweater. After swallowing the lump in her throat Bridget licks her lips and cautiously steps forward. “It’s okay now. I’m here with you,” she affirms. “You have to go. I can’t control myself,” the original asserts._

_“This isn’t real. It will pass, and I promise that you’ll feel better. Just hold onto me for right now.”_

_Bridget offers a hand to Rebekah who bites her lip before taking it. The former wastes no time pulling the blonde in close to embrace her, allowing them both to sigh in relief. After a few moments brown eyes crack open to see the brutal scene ahead. On the bed lies Bridget’s marred body surrounded by a pool of fresh blood. The sight of her own lifeless eyes sends a shock to her system._

_Rebekah breaks away from the hug and begins backtracking. “You have to leave me now,” she commands, shaking her head with fear in her eyes. Bridget goes to protest until she feels a liquid trickling down her neck. She instinctively wipes at it and looks down at her fingers to find more blood. Her gaze quickly shoots to Rebekah losing the fight to her predatory impulses._

_“Go,” the vampire yells before darting forward._

With a gasp Bridget opens her eyes to see Rebekah leaning into the palm holding her lulled head. “She’s a fighter. Despite being the little sister she’s…stronger and much braver than me.” Bridget turns her head to find Freya leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. “If you want…staying for the night is on the table. She’ll want you here when she wakes up but…”

“I know. Once she’s okay I’ll be gone. Thanks.”

Freya fixes her lips to say more but settles on a short nod instead. Without entertaining further conversation she shifts her weight and leaves the doorway. Her mind races a mile a minute the entire journey to her own bedroom. She knows what’s waiting for her there, the concern and endless care her wife is always so eager to provide. She knows that she should be grateful for the love and support but with that comes the questions, the dissection of her own tumultuous thoughts and feelings. Truthfully she’s not ready to dive any deeper into the ancient trauma that still seems to haunt her. She can’t handle the look on her soulmate’s face when she tells her that the life growing inside her is an omen and not an answer to their loving prayers.

How could she tell her that the unborn child, made of their flesh and blood, feels less like a blessing and more like a curse? All because its lifeline is directly connected to her own? The answer is simple. She just simply can’t share that ugly truth.

Freya reaches her bedroom and stops with a sigh before finally crossing the threshold. Inside she finds Keelin sitting at the foot of their bed while staring down at the pregnancy test in her hand. “I haven’t even looked at the results. Life just _keeps_ on getting in the way.” At the sudden remark from her wife the werewolf lifts her gaze and tilts her head knowingly.

“We should talk about the fact that we’re _actually_ having another baby. You know?”

Freya interlocks her fingers. “I know.” She looks down at her hands for a moment before fixing her eyes to awaiting brown orbs. “Could I just have some time to think? I just can’t talk about all of this, not tonight.” Keelin examines the blonde thoroughly before accepting her wish with a nod. Rising to her feet she sets the pregnancy test down on the bed and comes over to engulf her soulmate in a warm hug. “I understand how hard this is for you, so we’ll talk when you’re ready. I love you okay?” Freya exhales a little shakily while gripping Keelin’s shoulders and nodding.

“I love you too.”


	11. The Lady With The Lamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya continues to struggle emotionally as she comes to terms with her pregnancy while Keelin tries her best to be supportive; Bridget receives a vision of JD's return with a powerful weapon; Jordan finds herself in hot water at school; Jamie brokers a deal with Alex while Sharon learns more from Lo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back with a new chapter! The delay was definitely unanticipated but I've had back to back sickness for the past few weeks and just didn't have the energy to edit/post the chapters. I'm still not 100% yet but I've been gradually feeling well enough to work on things. So, considering how out of whack I was I hope everything is still together here lol. As I've said before this chapter and the next will be tying up the first half of the story. Chapter 13 is sort of an epilogue/prologue deal centering around New Years Eve for the Mikaelsons and setting up the second half. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Wished Bone - Reasons: Rebekah avoids Bridget and argues with Freya.
> 
> 2) Huxlee - Teammate: Marcel tries to make amends with Davina.
> 
> 3) Striking Matches - Shameless: Jordan talks to Taylor before Principal Thornton approaches them.
> 
> 4) Des Rocs - Used To The Darkness: JD forces Marcel to attack Davina and Bridget.
> 
> 5) Algiers - Blood: Jamie and Alex come to an agreement, Sharon and Lo learn the truth.
> 
> 6) Janelle Kroll - Outsider: Jordan and Keelin have a meeting with Principal Thornton.
> 
> 7) Typhoon - Possible Deaths: Rebekah talks to Kol about her fears.
> 
> 8) Cobi - Don't You Cry For Me: Marcel and Bridget talk about Rebekah before helping Davina.
> 
> 9) Tim McNary - Above The Trees: Jordan and Keelin arrive home after the meeting at school.
> 
> 10) Foreign Air - Free Animal: Bridget and Rebekah try a new method to confront bloodlust after reconciling.
> 
> 11) TRACE - Honey: Freya and Keelin talk about their situation.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

“Freya?”

Keelin enters her bedroom and scans the place for her elusive wife. Within seconds her ears prick up at the nearby sound of gagging directing her to the en suite bathroom. After crossing the short distance she successfully finds Freya on the floor with her head in the toilet. She immediately comes to her aid by rubbing her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry I did this to you, baby.”

Freya loosens her grip on the toilet bowl and settles onto the floor prompting Keelin to grab the plastic cup from the sink. She watches as the brunette fills the cup with water before crouching down to hand it to her. She graciously accepts the offering and gulps it down before leaning against the toilet with a sigh.

“I’m fine. This is the first time this has happened, so I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Keelin presents a soft smile while tilting her head. “There’s a whole little person growing inside of you, Freya. Puking up your breakfast in the morning was bound to happen.” Her slight amusement diminishes as her wife stares at her despondently before looking to the floor. Biting her lip she releases a knowing sigh. “Maybe you shouldn’t do this compromise thing today. I’m more than capable of handling it myself while you get some rest.” Green eyes flit up to her instantly. “I can handle this. I’m fine.” Freya quickly climbs to her feet and casts her determined gaze on Keelin who rises shortly after.

“See. All better.”

“Freya.”

“Really. I wouldn’t tell you that I’m okay if I wasn’t, Keelin.”

“No, that’s _exactly_ what you would do. It’s been two days since I found out about our baby and you still refuse to talk to me about it. I know what you must be thinking and what you’re feeling too but it’s not the same as you expressing it all to me. We have plans to make now, Freya. Telling the girls, planning doctor visits, and setting up our home. Deciding what we think is best for this child, our _family_. Eventually we’re going to have to lay it all out on the table and talk about these things.”

Freya nods affirmatively. “I’ve realized that okay? But for today this compromise means protecting our family. I need to handle it,” she asserts. “You always have to handle the world on your shoulders. But it becomes a problem when you can’t even begin to take on yourself,” Keelin replies, nodding. “We need to talk about what I remember and the things you can’t seem to forget. For the sake of our baby.” Uncertain emerald eyes search firm chestnut orbs for a moment. “After this is over,” Freya resolves before swiftly moving for the exit. Keelin sighs stressfully and scratches her forehead while spinning around to watch the retreating blonde.

* * *

 

In a classic leisure room lit by candlelight Sharon runs her fingers over the keys of a Victorian grand piano. Just above the keys she recognizes an Asian symbol carved into the golden oak. Slightly reaching up she begins to curiously trace the lines. “Planning a recital?” Sharon throws a glance over her shoulder to discover Lo standing in the doorway with a pleased grin.

“I don’t think so. You never taught me how to play remember?”

“I remember everything. And failing to teach you any Mozart is a deep regret of mine.”

The pair hold a quiet gaze until Sharon looks away to rub at the markings on the piano. “What are these carvings? I’ve been finding them all over the mansion,” the witch speaks up. “They’re protection symbols,” Lo answers simply. She comes to stand by Sharon who turns to face her completely. “My mother used to put them on charms and decorations to hang around our home. She swore that they would always keep us safe no matter the danger and my _father_ …thought she was mad to even worry about such things in the English countryside. Once she began scrawling them on the walls with her fingernails we realized he was onto something all along.” Her eyes flit from the symbol to the awaiting amber orbs on her.

Sharon tilts her head intently. “Are you finally going to tell me about this place? About your time here and where you _poof_ off to when you think I’m not looking,” she questions, making a gesture with her hands. Lo rolls her eyes incredulously but remains quiet as Sharon continues. “It feels like I’ve been here with you for centuries, but you haven’t given me anything to go on.”

“Time ceases to exist here. If you’re _fortunate_ to watch over the living you can gain a rough sense of what you’re missing.”

“Lo.”

Lo sighs out while shaking her head. “What do you want to know, Sharon? All about the sick fantasies of this desolate dreamland shrouded in perpetual darkness,” she poses. Sharon steps into her space with a troubled gaze. “I just want to understand you and what you’ve gone through during the worst five months of both our lives.” She watches as Lo parts her lips as if to speak before closing them soon after. “Was the transition to demon status instant? Is there a horned figure dishing out fire and brimstone? Have you seen…my mother?”

“Yes, when I got here I automatically had new abilities. No, I haven’t seen the devil because the lack of natural sunlight won’t allow me to check my makeup. And no, I haven’t seen Mary. Wherever she is I assume she can’t possibly have a shorter end of the stick than this.” Sharon gives Lo a disheartening look causing her to release some tension.

“When I told you that I’ve been in hell I meant psychologically, emotionally. Every soul here is restless and desperate to escape the ending they just know they don’t deserve. What makes my skin crawl might not have the same effect on the next Wanderer. We all have our own different versions of hell.”

Sharon licks her lips. “What is your version,” she asks. Lo waits for a moment. “Having nothing worthwhile to my name, a severe lack of control over my fate. Being a failure, a subordinate. Enduring a separation across realms from you,” she admits, pausing. “I’m forced to stay in this great big mansion all alone for eternity, Sharon. When I _poof_ away it’s to gain some sense of freedom. Out there are thousands, millions of tortured souls roaming this plane in misery. Each time I leave these walls I run the risk of being devoured, a fate worse than this, but at least I’m not alone.” Sharon stares at Lo sullenly.

* * *

 

**BRIDGET SAMUELS**

_Are you okay? Haven’t heard back from you in a while._

 

**ME**

_Yes, I’m fine. After you left yesterday I took the time to recuperate. Hayley helped a bit before heading back to Mystic Falls._

 

**BRIDGET SAMUELS**

_Good. I wish I could be there but there’s a blonde Amazon guarding your castle._

 

**BRIDGET SAMUELS**

_So…do you wanna grab breakfast and maybe talk about things?_

Rebekah sits at the dining table while staring at her messages. It’s been this way for at least an hour due to the equally conflicting sides of her strong emotions. Suddenly a selfie of Bridget puckering her lips pops onto the screen. Internally, Rebekah panics at the incoming call and inhales deeply before closing her eyes. Then she exhales while silently berating herself and sets the phone down on the table. Freya saunters into the dining room just in time to catch the vampire slumping back in her chair as the device buzzes. Her eyes quickly take notice of the image onscreen.

“Good to see you’ve come to your senses.”

Rebekah looks over at her wearily. “About what,” she asks. “About Bridget. We both know that you were one date away from heartbreak,” Freya retorts, heading for the liquor cabinet. She begins scouring the collection with her back to her sister. “I’m surprised she’s been seeing you this long. It is Bridget, the lovable witch outrunning love. The captivating spirit leaving a trail of broken hearts in her wake.” She finally grabs a dark green bottle before spinning around. “You do realize that the _last_ person she loved had to suffer just to hear three words right? It took a literal deathbed just for her to even consider commitment.”

Rebekah tilts her head while frowning. “She cared deeply for Greg and you can’t imagine the guilt she’s felt ever since. Also, you do realize you’re pregnant right? And it’s a bit early for the strong stuff.” Freya casually walks over to her. “This is for a spell. Your soon-to-be _ex_ -girlfriend may have conveniently embraced her psychic side, but I don’t have too many chances to take on a formerly possessed coven leader. Seeing as the latter will be in my home today I’m opting to protect my family,” she reclaims.

“So is that what you’re doing for me then? Protecting me from the woman whom you love as family? The woman that wouldn’t so much as harm a flower because it would be a crime to her nature? The same woman that gives her all for those in need, blood or not?”

“I’ve known her longer, Rebekah. I’ve seen firsthand how she operates while you only see what she wants you to see, the parts of her that aren’t so broken.”

“What are you on about? I know she’s not perfect. In fact I admire her for choosing to be a decent person after all she’s been through. All of us are broken, Freya. And not one of us is spared the reminder of just how damaged we truly are.”

“Well the Bridget I know would’ve refrained from getting involved with a known hopeless romantic, ready and willing to take on the burden of saving her. Last I heard she ended things with Hayden for that very reason.”

“Bridget fought her feelings for me because of her loyalty to you. Time after time she tried to push me away with the belief that she was undeserving of comfort and of _love_. I was the one that convinced her not to be a bloody martyr for your self-righteous cause and look, I was justified seeing as you’re so quick to turn your back on her just for not getting your way. And let’s not pretend you’re absolved of a complicated past with women. You could’ve chosen to uphold your friendship and support her because the fact still remains, we care for each other.”

Freya slowly shakes her head. “You can’t expect me to be okay with this. I will never be okay with the witch fearing commitment and her own insanity being with my lovesick little sister,” she affirms. Rebekah glares at her in frustration. “Your reaction has been senseless and petty. Why can’t you just be happy for me instead of being yet another hypocritical Mikaelson?”

“Fine. _Good_ for you then Rebekah. I’m glad that you finally have your fairytale ending, with my damaged best friend! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Rebekah nods sarcastically. “Yes actually but without the obvious judgmental tone. I wanted the same love and support that was given to you, from me, when you fell for Keelin.” Freya closes her eyes while sighing. “It’s my job to protect you, be it from the threats on your life and the dangers to your heart. You don’t know what you’re getting into by being with Bridget. She’s far too good at hiding what she needs to and if she’s freefalling into her darkness you’d never know. If she can keep secrets from me, even Keelin, then she will do the same to you Rebekah. I won’t sit back and watch my family crumble because of her dangerous choices.”

Rebekah folds her arms. “I’m sorry but weren’t you doing the same to Keelin before? Keeping secrets and making dangerous choices,” she digs. Freya sighs at the reminder. “Yes and look at how much pain and suffering that caused her. I don’t want you to experience the same things. Not when you don’t have to, sister.” She pleads with her eyes as Rebekah softens before standing up.

“You are my big sister and I love you dearly but please don’t make the mistake of placing your desires above what I want for my own life. You may not want to hear this right now, but Bridget is good for me. She’s good enough to send me running in the opposite direction, fearing the likely chance of ruining her. If there’s anyone you should be protecting in this relationship it’s her Freya.”

Freya stares at Rebekah before pursing her lips. “You will always be my family, my sister, my _blood_. And I will protect that long after Bridget is gone. Judging by her infamous track record you’ll be looking for a new happy ending soon enough,” she remarks, earning a scowl. “You know, being a miserable bitch of a sibling doesn’t look quite right on you. For your sake I hope that Keelin can sort through all the pregnant lady hormones. Until then get off your high horse,” Rebekah retorts before striding out of the room. Freya closes her eyes with a disappointed sigh.

* * *

 

In a simple modern kitchen Bridget leans back against a sink with her phone pressed to her ear. “So…you’re obviously avoiding me. And I understand why you’re doing it but…please just talk to me. That’s always been something we’re good at, sharing our fears and working through what’s bothering us. You don’t have to run away from me, Rebekah. I’m here to get through whatever with you so just call me back okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sigh she ends the call and pulls herself off the support of the sink to place her phone on the kitchen island. Planting her hands on the countertop she hovers over the book resting there. “Methods for developing abilities. Deep meditation, practicing magic and psychic techniques regularly.” She lifts her head up for a moment to think. “Bridget the Rookie vs Mindcraft Round 2.”

She walks around the kitchen island to enter the adjacent living room comprised of a white sofa with lamps on either side, a matching chair near the front door, a glass coffee table, a large painting, and mounted flat screen TV. She sits down on a grey rug and crosses her legs before closing her eyes. With a deep breath she allows her mind to sift through her current thoughts.

 _Rebekah_. The previous day had been rough for them. In the morning the vampire had awoken from her feverish state only to instantly pull away from her. To say the sudden coldness stung would be an understatement. She understood the need to avoid what had transpired in the poison-induced nightmare, but she hadn’t expected to be directed to the door before she could even get a word in.

 _Freya_. Not only is she facing banishment from the compound but from the Viking’s life altogether. She knew all along that it would eventually come to this and yet the blowback of her choices is still greater than she could have imagined. Keelin assured her that Freya is just dealing with a deep fear regarding their baby and although she knows this to be true she still fears a reality without her family. She just couldn’t lose the Viking and everything they had built together. She’s not sure what she’d do without their close relationship, especially now that there’s a new addition to it.

Her best friends are actually having another baby and she couldn’t be more overjoyed at the prospect. After all Mikaela has essentially been like her own child, a reminder of the one she lost so long ago. What would life be like had she not sworn away her dream of being a mother? It’s a question always sitting in the back of her mind that she knows better than to dare ask.

And just like that her thoughts reach a dark state of fear, the fear of what chaos her disorder could force her to inflict in the name of obtaining more power. Suddenly she’s struck by an image of power in the form of an intricately patterned gauntlet. As the vision becomes clearer she sees JD slipping the armor on with a grin before inspecting it closely.

_“I’m coming for you, Marcel Gerard. Once and for all.”_

Bridget’s eyes crack open in astonishment.

* * *

 

Freya, Keelin, Hayden, and Isla all sit at the courtyard table in anticipation. Across from Hayden, Keelin sets her gaze on Isla. “Thanks for agreeing to settle this outside the realm of vicious sorcery.” The latter nods accordingly while clasping her hands. “Trust me, I prefer it this way. I know I haven’t made the best impression and I’m sorry that I let things go so far,” she apologizes.

Keelin licks her lips while nodding. “Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m against unnecessary violence so first I want to make it clear that death is not the answer for your mother.” Isla exhales in relief as Hayden grips her forearm supportively. “But what my niece deserves is closure. At sixteen she’s already lost so much family; my family and I won’t allow her to carry that burden around. Especially not while the people responsible get to live free of consequence. What we’ve come to agree on is long-term imprisonment for your mother. She will be stripped of all her longstanding prestige to live out the rest of her days in solitude under the authority of New Orleans witches. With Kayla Bordeaux onboard I can make sure that she’s protected from any potential threats to her life. Only if you agree to our terms.”

Isla looks down at her hands while considering the punishment. “Will I still be able to visit her,” she asks, peering up. “No, you won’t,” Freya intercepts before Keelin can speak. “While your mother is rotting away in a dark cell you will become a distant memory. We’re banishing you from the city.” Her wife frowns immediately. “Freya.” Isla looks between them as she sits up in confusion.

“What,” she questions.

Freya leans forward with a cold stare. “Did you really think I’d just let you go back to your renowned day job after invading my home and placing my family in danger? If this whole compromise were solely up to me your mother would be suffering a far worse fate, just like Lucy did. And you, well you don’t even wanna know about the ways I could prolong your punishment.”

“Stop it,” Keelin commands firmly.

“Her life is here, Freya. Everything she’s ever known lies within this city. Don’t take that away from her.”

Freya looks at Hayden and lifts her chin. “Did you conveniently forget how she tried to take my _sister_ away from me? I’m sure she can learn to live without this city if she wants to walk free with her life,” the former remarks, earning a glare. “Yeah? And what about Veda? She orchestrated everything so where does she fall in all this talk about retribution huh? Will you be arranging her death sentence too or do you just plan on keeping her breathing to pacify your blatant mommy issues?” The two women stare at each other fiercely.

“That’s enough! We’re not going to get anywhere with everyone jumping down each other’s throats,” Keelin speaks up before looking to Freya. “And we’re not going down this road of losing ourselves to revenge. I want no part in that.” The Viking fixes her gaze to the wolf as Isla stands up from her chair. “Thank you. I appreciate you having me, and I will talk to my mother about this.”

Without another word the coven leader hastens away prompting Hayden to rise from her seat. “Yeah. Thanks for not losing yourself to revenge,” she chimes with a look of disdain. Freya stares back at her, just barely moving her lips. Hayden shakes her head as she storms off after Isla. Sighing, the Mikaelson drops her head in her hand as Keelin watches with concern.

* * *

 

After exiting the newly renovated Astor Crowne Plaza Davina comes to stand on the curb. She adjusts the small bag on her shoulder while looking down at the phone in her possession. “Nice morning for an outdoor breakfast.” At the sound of the smooth voice she drops her phone allowing Marcel to swiftly catch it on reflex. With a grin he offers it back to her. “What do you say?” Davina frowns she snatches her phone from him. “Dammit Marcel. Shouldn’t you be past sneaking up on people? I was in the middle of talking to Kol,” she huffs.

“The guy can stand to live without you for one second, D. Let me take you out somewhere nice before you leave town.” Davina folds her arms while redirecting her gaze to the street. “No thanks. I’m not missing my flight just for some half assed plan to get me talking to you again,” she remarks. Marcel tilts his head. “Well, I must be doing something right because you’re talking to me now,” he retorts.

“Well consider this very one-sided conversation over.”

Davina starts marching down the sidewalk inciting Marcel to sigh with displeasure. “Where are you going, Davina?” She keeps trudging on from the scene. “Davina!” Marcel finally darts in front of Davina. “Get out of my way, Marcel! I’m not in the mood and unless you want to see what I learned abroad you should just leave me alone,” she warns. Marcel raises his arms in surrender.

“Hey, I just wanna talk. I wanted to see you yesterday but…”

“I didn’t want to see you. Just like I _still_ don’t want to see you.”

Marcel drops his arms defeatedly. “Come on, D,” he pleads. Davina shakes her head in protest. “No, Marcel. You don’t get to practically abandon me and then suddenly decide to be in my life on your terms. That’s not how this works,” she asserts. “I never abandoned you,” the vampire reclaims, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you’ve been telling yourself? Well tell that to Kol and Rebekah and everyone else that can vouch for you checking out of my life. You’ve managed to ignore the flourishing business that _I’m_ proud of, four birthdays, that teaching job in Asia. You didn’t even care to call when my mother died. But when you showed up out of the blue after Rebekah left I was there for you. I listened to you and I encouraged you to go after what you really wanted. And the minute I wasn’t willing to put my life on hold to help you with your New Orleans pipe dream you were off doing whatever like I didn’t even exist! You don’t really care about me, Marcel. You never did so just leave me alone!”

Marcel gazes at Davina ruefully. “You’re right about me not being there when I should’ve been,” he states, nodding. “And I’m so sorry for that. I will _never_ forgive myself for missing out on the most important moments of your life alright? I understand you not wanting to see my face but letting you believe that I don’t care about you is just something I can’t do. It will hurt me too much because I love you, D. More than any scheme or pipe dream.” He rests a hand over his heart. “You’re my friend, my family. You’re what I consider a daughter so just give me a chance to make this right between us. I’m never giving up on you.” He shakes his head with emphasis as a conflicted Davina stares back at him in slight frustration.

“You’re the only father figure I’ve ever had. You kept me safe and taught me how to survive. I will always love you for that, but I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Then let me earn that trust back. I mean it. Whatever you want me to do, however long it takes…I will do anything to fix this. Just don’t give up on me. _Please_.”

Narrowed blue eyes stare into dedicated brown ones. “So…hypothetically speaking. What would you have in mind,” Davina finally asks. Marcel breaks into a gleeful smile while chuckling. “Well that depends. How…” His phone abruptly rings inciting him to look down at his pocket before fixing his eyes to the witch. “Go ahead. Answer it,” the latter insists. Marcel retrieves the device and glances at the screen before holding it to his ear.

“Yeah. Everything alright?” As a voice chirps into his ear his face gradually falls into concern. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be there soon.” He ends the call and returns the phone to his pocket with a solemn expression. “Look, it’s best you just catch that flight. I’ll call you later.” Davina furrows her eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Who was that,” she questions worriedly.

“It was Bridget warning me about an old enemy of mine. We took care of him weeks ago but somehow he’s back from the grave with a powerful weapon.”

“Well then I’m not leaving just yet. If you need my help then I’m here.” Marcel shakes his head in opposition. “Davina. You had the right idea before. I don’t want you involved in this,” he affirms. “I won’t let some resurrected enemy kill you, Marcel. I’m coming with you,” Davina declares passionately. The pair stand their ground while gazing at each other.

* * *

 

Under the morning sunlight a burly man escorts Alex up the stairs to a circular balcony. As the stranger quietly leaves the werewolf looks out at the large pool area down below and notices several watchful civilians. Furrowing his brows he fixes his gaze to Jamie relaxing in a lounge chair with his eyes hidden behind dark shades.

“So you brought me way out here just to have all these eyes on me anyway?”

“I know that you’re used to making deals in the shadows of New Orleans, but in my circumstance I found it best to take a little trip outside. Those tourists down there are only a means to show you how serious I am. Take a seat and stay a week.”

Alex lifts his chin at the nonchalant order but moves to sit on the lounge chair beside Jamie. “I see you’re showing me who’s in charge already. Leaving cryptic videos about your psychic prowess and taking over the Hard Rock just to get a tremble out of me. Well the little presidential caravan you sent me in didn’t work my man.” The latter grins before removing his sunglasses and turning to the former.

“I thought I was showing you hospitality with the town car escort, but I guess not. I gather that you’re not a very secure man Mr. Porter, but I have brought you here to present the opportunity to change that. I want to broker a deal with you, over New Orleans that is.” Alex examines him for a moment before laughing in disbelief. “We’re in Biloxi because you want to cut a deal with me over New Orleans? Alright.”

“We’re in Biloxi because I enjoy the risk of taking a gamble. And as previously stated the circumstances called for it.”

“What circumstances?”

Jamie exhales softly. “Mr. Porter, it is in our best interest to be transparent with each other as potential business partners. I’m aware of your…complicated relationship with Miss Vance so it’s only fair that I inform you of her whereabouts. She’s here with me, in a deep sleep of course,” he reveals. Alex glares at him. “No. She’s been holed up in her apartment since failing to detain you. I had her followed and I know she’s falling out of favor with her right-hand. She doesn’t take disappointment well,” he reclaims.

“You seem to know a lot about her. However, if you knew everything there is to know then the thought of her perseverance would’ve been considered in your exploitation. After we had a lovely chat about my history and intentions she attempted to assassinate me. I had no choice but to subdue her leaving myself in a predicament. How do I explain the disappearance of the Queen? Fortunately, her personal issues made that fairly easy for me as I created the illusion of her losing grace in the midst of a publicized event. By the time Miss Bordeaux came sniffing around she was more concerned about convincing me not to file charges against her tragic partner.”

“So you were the one that made her look crazy and incompetent. You’re undermining her authority.”

“It’s just business. Miss Vance has been tucked away safely as I’ve been maintaining both our presences back in New Orleans. While she enjoys her little vacation I would like us to focus on this. To be frank I’m against the expansion of your vulgar empire. It’s too risky for such young minds and in turn, inconvenient to my own needs. Instead I would like you to establish a territory and stay within those bounds for now. If you agree to my request then I will grant you the chance to see your kind rising in rank. I’m no stranger to effectively campaigning for a good cause. If I say the word then wolves are the future of the Crescent City. But if you decide my vision is not for you, I’m sure that the jaded Queen could be a useful tool in quickly crushing your criminal aspirations.”

* * *

 

Students shuffle around Taylor as he unpacks his schoolbag at his locker. Jordan materializes beside him and leans against the neighboring storage space. “Hey. Can we talk,” she asks. The male witch glances at her pleading eyes before continuing his task. “I’d rather not relive what happened Saturday,” he retorts simply.

“Fair enough, same here. I just…want everything to be okay between us. I’m sorry for how things went.”

With a sigh Taylor finally stops to look at Jordan. “You don’t have to apologize. I should’ve never forced that on you, so we’re cool on my end.” The hybrid tilts her head, completely unconvinced. “I know we’re not cool, Tay. I understand if you can’t be around me right now, but I want you to know you’re the perfect one. You’re kind, smart, creative, a good friend. And you’re also pretty cute most days.”

Taylor shakes his head at the compliment and Jordan chuckles lightly before biting her lip. “It’s crazy that someone like you would even want to be with me,” the girl states, shaking her own head. “What happened Saturday wasn’t rejection. I just couldn’t drag someone else into my drama. I’m not ready for that type of relationship.” Taylor stares at her before nodding with understanding.

“I know. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. But Jasmine got in my head about the possibilities and when I saw you at that party I just…had to you know?”

Jordan nods regretfully. “Jasmine is another story but at least we got this out in the open. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Taylor. You’ve been too good to me after everything and I couldn’t have survived this long without your friendship,” she states genuinely. Taylor offers a bittersweet grin. “I am pretty awesome aren’t I,” he poses, earning an amused smile in return.

“Yeah. Just don’t let it go to your big head.”

“Nah girl it’s too late. You called me _cute_.”

Jordan rolls her eyes causing Taylor to chuckle before giving her a serious look. “I don’t wanna lose our friendship either. It’s just gonna take some time to get over you alright,” the boy informs. “Whatever you need. Is it too weird to swear on it with a hug though,” the girl proffers. “Of course not. Bring it in.” Taylor opens his arms allowing Jordan to embrace him tightly. After a few moments they pull away to gaze at each other softly. A tall woman in a black pantsuit approaches the pair while clearing her throat, prompting them to create the appropriate space.

“Good morning, Principal Thornton,” the teenagers greet in unison.

“Mhm,” the woman hums while inspecting them. “Jordan. Can I talk to you in my office please?” Jordan glances at Taylor before nodding with slight uncertainty. “Sure,” she complies. Spinning on her heels Principal Thornton begins heading down the hallway signaling the hybrid to follow behind. Countless students observe their every move while pulling out their cellphones to document the occurrence. Once they reach the office Principal Thornton stands by the door and gestures a hand towards the entryway. “Have a seat,” she directs. Jordan walks in but soon stops in her tracks as she discovers Aniya sitting in a chair by the window. She locks eyes with the girl and gapes in horror upon noticing a dark bruise adorning her fresh features.

* * *

 

Freya strides out of the dining room with Keelin in tow. “What the hell was that, Freya? I never agreed to banishment,” the latter states. “You’ve made your decision for Jordan’s family and I’ve made mine regarding my own.” Keelin lets out an incredulous breath. “Yeah, I made a decision that I discussed _with_ you first. And since when is Rebekah not my family? I have a say in this too. I’m just as angry as you because any of us could’ve been killed,” she projects. “I doubt we’re on the same level of fury and resentment,” Freya throws back, unphased.

Keelin moves swiftly to grab her by the arm and twist her around. “Dammit Freya! Where are you trying to go huh? Leaving right now is not what’s best for anyone,” she claims. Freya snatches away with a scowl. “It’s best for me,” she shouts. Exhaling harshly she shakes her head as Keelin frowns. “I can’t be here with you hovering over me and questioning my ability to protect my family!”

“ _Your_ family?”

“Yes, _my_ family. I’ve always been the one making the hard choices for the sake of preserving our lives. If you didn’t realize how screwed up the job can be then maybe you should’ve reconsidered building a life with me.”

Keelin goes silent as Freya lifts her chin. Peering into turbulent green eyes it’s clear for the doctor to see that great walls are building around her troubled wife. “You blame me for what’s happening to you. All this anger and pain you’re inflicting on Bridget, Rebekah, and Hayden. It’s all meant for me because you’re carrying my baby, the baby you don’t want.”

Freya parts her lips while blinking a few times and dropping her head. “It’s not that. I’ll always want more children with you,” she states sullenly. Keelin tilts her head softly and steps into the witch’s space to grab her hands. “Then talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head. We’re in this together remember? All the way,” she attests. Freya peers up at her while shaking her head.

“How could this happen to me,” she questions.

Keelin gives her an apologetic look. “Are we really revisiting the embarrassing sex talk with my parents? Does the whole ‘furry coming of age speech’ ring a bell?” Freya tilts her head seriously. “ _Why_ would this happen now? I thought it was never an option for you, let alone for us,” she expresses. Her wife sighs out in acknowledgement.

“I thought so too at the time. I never really saw myself as an alpha female and before you I had only been in relationships with humans while trying to live like one. I hated who I was so reaching my mystical peak of puberty and mating with some random wolf to please my parents never even crossed my mind. Then you happened to me, our bond and our special baby. Even when I finally began to accept myself I just figured that…you know…what would be the point of unlocking my full potential in that area. Apparently I was wrong to live off the assumption though.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Keelin. You’ve embraced your heritage for years now.”

“Maybe consider that at this point in time I’m a powerful shapeshifter. You know all about the damage I’ve done to my gene over the years. Suppressing it to stay under the radar, altering my cells in hopes of finding a cure. But now that’s changed because everything feels connected inside of me. I control my form and I know who I am. There’s Malraux blood running through my veins along with the immortality suddenly making things limitless. I mean my whole biology has always been an anomaly taking on whatever form it seeks to. I can adapt to certain conditions, shift body parts beyond what is humanly possible in certain situations. In this case certain…circumstances due to a trait. You know how it works, Freya.”

Keelin bites her lip as Freya shakes her head with a sigh. “That still doesn’t explain how this worked for us. I’m a witch, Keelin. Remember? We’re not exactly the almighty _two of a kind_ that your parents hammered into you from a young age. The ritual of merging with a perfect mate is exclusive to werewolves from what I recall.”

“Yes, you’re not the werewolf queen my father would’ve been satisfied with me dominating, or the homemaker my mother would’ve tolerated for the sake of her bloodline but you’re still my soulmate. That means so much more than some wolf custom that hasn’t even stood the test of time. I mean I didn’t think it was possible but each day we spend married I feel closer to you somehow. We did make crazy mind blowing love on a full moon so couldn’t we have bypassed the biological restraints?”

Freya tilts her head. “You’re thinking that this is some kind of loophole? That our bond and you being one with your wolf has allowed me to suddenly carry our child,” she questions in disbelief. Keelin provides a gentle gaze. “Honey, I’m just as confused by all of this too. I know this isn’t something we ever expected but we’re here now. You’re actually carrying my baby,” she gushes with a loving smile. “Call me crazy but…I’m happy about it. More little hybrids have always been in our future.”

Freya pulls away slowly. “More little hybrids that you carried to term safely, Keelin. We both know I’m not capable of that,” she concludes. Keelin’s smile shrinks. “Freya,” she tries. The Viking shakes her head anxiously. “I’m sorry but I can’t do this. I really can’t talk about this right now.” She quickly moves in pursuit of the staircase. Keelin closes her eyes in thought until her phone suddenly alerts her with incessant chiming. Sighing, she opens her eyes and reaches into her pocket to retrieve the device. On the screen she easily recognizes the number for Jordan’s school.

* * *

 

“Are you sure you didn’t mix up the address? Urban decay is not really this guy’s style,” Bridget chirps. Davina leads the way through a dilapidated courtyard covered in overgrown plants and graffiti. “This is the place. You described a powerful object not from this land and I traced that power to the West Bank,” she states. “The Touro-Shakespeare. It was a grand nursing home for the better part of the 20th century until Hurricane Katrina ruined a lot of the building. There was a restoration plan over a decade ago, but the city abandoned it. I think this is supposed to be symbolic for JD,” Marcel notifies. “Let me guess. Like this grand classical building was abandoned by people that no longer saw its greatness he was also left to deteriorate because of you,” Bridget quips.

“Something like that.”

The trio march through an outside corridor before entering the domed-ceiling chapel. There they find JD standing in front of the altar wearing the gauntlet with a wide grin. “Very much so like that.” Their enemy descends the low steps as they halt several feet away. “I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here, Marcel. My plans to pay a visit were reserved for later on tonight but I suppose it’s more fitting to sacrifice you at the altar.” Marcel shakes his head. “Not gonna happen. I took you down twice so maybe third time’s the charm,” he remarks defiantly.

JD tilts his head with amusement. “You don’t think I’m intimidated by the company you keep do you? I’m always prepared when it comes to your ‘mind of a warrior’ strategy. How do you think I’m here standing before you now? Young Bishop’s sudden disappearance wasn’t pure coincidence. As a soldier he gave his life for mine just like you expected him to do for you, albeit with some reluctance.” Marcel narrows his eyes and darts over to JD who forces his arm upward, knocking him off his feet with an uppercut. “Now stay down!” Marcel holds his weight back on his palms and winces as he obeys. “I’m familiar with witch number one but who is this other special guest of yours?” The question is met with silence and a livid stare.

“Tell me!”

“My daughter.”

JD lights up at the newly acquired knowledge. “Oh really now? Well this just keeps on falling into place. Before you’re buried I want the proper misery for you to dwell in. Kill your daughter, Marcel. And make it slow before draining your little side witch. Now,” he orders ferociously. In a flash Marcel is on his feet ogling Davina and Bridget as he summons his true face.

“That gauntlet is controlling Marcel. We need to overpower the enchantment on it, so I really hope you’ve brushed up on your french.”

“I’m a Dupont and a Samuels by blood. We learn four languages in nursery school so just start the spell.”

Davina promptly offers her hand and Bridget grasps it critically. “De tu me ne s’en fin,” the former intones. The latter nods signaling her readiness. “De tu me ne s’en fin. De tu me ne s’en fin.” Marcel hisses before dashing over to the pair only to stop himself abruptly. After stumbling a bit due to the force he presses a palm to the floor beneath him.

“You need to get out of here! Get as far away from me as you can!”

“No, Marcel! We can stop this, just trust me!”

“It’s not you I don’t trust right now, D.”

“Rip her apart,” JD howls impatiently. Marcel shakes his head and progresses forward to drive Davina back into a wall. “Marcel,” the witch questions fearfully. As she recoils at the strong grip on her biceps the vampire bares his fangs and prepares to attack. “Motus,” Bridget calls out. Marcel flies through a chapel window allowing Davina to exhale in relief.

“Trap JD and kill the gauntlet! I’ll handle Marcel!”

Davina nods accordingly before striding towards JD while encasing him in a flaming boundary. “De tu me ne s’en fin,” she begins chanting. Bridget hurries out to the courtyard and instantly meets silence as she scans her surroundings. Suddenly she’s grabbed from behind causing her to grunt and grit her teeth. “I know you’re not yourself right now but you’re really pushing it,” she remarks.

“I’m trying to fight it,” Marcel groans.

“Well fight harder! I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ll be damned if I’m becoming your witch-flavored energy boost.”

Marcel leans his head back as sharp fangs protrude from his mouth. Bridget teleports a few feet away and prepares to snap the vampire’s neck until he thrusts her into the side of the building. The aggressive force leaves her sore, but she braces herself as he chomps down on her neck and proceeds to feed mercilessly. As her blood intoxicates him she screams out in distress and within seconds both their bodies drop to the ground.

Now they’re standing under a beaming sun as Bridget’s farmhouse stands monumental in the distance. Marcel looks around at the peaceful location in amazement. “Where are we,” he questions. Bridget gazes at him before turning her attention to the wondrous home. “Welcome to my world,” she retorts.

* * *

 

“I want maximum profit. Expanding my business is the only way to reach that goal.”

“Understandable. But with cooperation I assure you I can be very generous.”

Alex rubs his chin in thought before looking into Jamie’s eyes. “How about this. I’ll be willing to negotiate territory if witches are out of the top spot. I can’t have them ruling the city with an iron fist if I’m downsizing.” The psychic studies the werewolf while lifting his chin. “You no longer want to be under her thumb I take it. You’ve developed feelings for her, and you fear compromising your affairs.”

Alex laughs humorlessly while shaking his head. “Believe what you want to believe, Sandman. But do you accept my terms or not?” Jamie extends his hand with a grin. “I can do what needs to be done but once the witches no longer reign over New Orleans I have no influence on the successor. You might want to back the human representative with the favorable public image for now. Werewolves and vampires don’t make for ideal candidates, leaving him to take the chair. And for you humans are fair game, especially politicians. Fragile, easy to manipulate, prone to greed and fear. Your best bet is to place your chips on him.” Alex nods accordingly and briefly glances at Jamie’s hand. “One more thing. You have Sharon so show me. Let me see her,” he requests.

“Then just take my hand.”

 

Meanwhile Lo guides Sharon through a narrow hallway blanketed by shadows. “So, there are three different types of Wanderers. Nightmares, Ken,” the latter drawls. “The Enshrined,” the former adds. “In life they were powerful witches and psychics. Now as spirits they ravage the earth through nature out of spite towards the living. Famine, plague. Even destructive forces of nature like earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, rapid forest fires. The list goes on.”

“And the Nightmares cause nightmares, pretty straightforward.”

“Don’t forget epilepsy, sleep paralysis, and _intense_ migraines. They’re a horrific bunch.”

“And the Ken?”

“Now those desperate bastards are able to achieve possession. Witches and shamans have spent thousands of years fortifying protection spells because of them. It’s not easy but once they reach earth and inhabit a body it’s difficult to expel them.”

“And thanks for making me feel at ease here.”

Lo abruptly stops and turns around with a sober expression. “I won’t let anyone, or anything harm you. I’m going to get you back to your body,” she avows. Sharon holds her gaze for a moment. “Which classification of Wanderer are you,” she asks curiously. “None specifically. I haven’t interacted with earth in any way.”

“Then how are you going to get me back there?”

“You’re different, Sharry. It doesn’t matter what I can’t do for myself because you don’t belong here.”

Lo turns away from the intent eyes attempting to discern her. “There,” she directs, pointing down the hall. “We call it the Window because it’s the only sure yet difficult way to reach the physical plane. Our limitations stem from those witches warding off spirits from earth, but nonetheless, this is still a bridge to the living. Most of us have our periods of giving up on the dream but…it’s not truly an option in this dimension.” Sharon stares at the thin white curtain blowing in front of an old window. Entranced by the beacon of vivid light she ambles forward until Lo grabs her wrist. “We have to be careful. Guardians know that Wanderers are drawn to it. You know what happens if they catch us.”  

Sharon looks to Lo and nods in understanding before pulling her in close. After a moment they walk hand in hand towards the bright window.

 

Jamie and Alex materialize in a luxury hotel suite. Behind them is a brown sofa, a large TV mounted to the ceiling, and a perfect view of the beach. Slightly disoriented, Alex stumbles a bit and lets go of Jamie’s hand. “Just breathe. You’ll adjust,” the psychic assures. The wolf exhales while gazing at Sharon lying peacefully on the nearest queen-sized bed. He swallows thickly and slowly steps forward, noticing the golden hourglass resting on the metallic side table. The contents inside the instrument are a vibrant emerald. “How come the sand is green? It was orange for Omar Correa.”

“Seven tones for my songs. The colors simply match them. White is a healing state, pink is a euphoric state. Mauve, a trance state. Green means the subject is in a deep sleep and orange is more or less the same only… _nightmarish_. If you’re in the red my friend you are trapped within your subconscious and black signifies an eternal coma irreversible by all means. Once you’ve shown good faith to me I will awaken her.”

Alex grimaces before spinning around. “I don’t care if you ever wake her up. Just tell me what I need to do,” he commands sharply. Jamie offers his trademark smirk with pleasure. “Have you ever heard of the Lady with the Lamp,” he asks, gaining a puckered brow in return.

“Florence Nightingale. In the 19th century she was born of high class but chose to pursue service to others as a young woman. Her life was dedicated to nursing the poor and the sick, a calling she heard from God. In those days medical care was running rampant with incompetence and uncleanliness. Compare those hospital practices to today’s guidelines and you would believe it to be a cruel punishment rather than care. And so, Florence’s journey truly began from there. She reformed the deadly conditions set in place and changed the medical field for the better. What I’m trying to convey here is dedication to quality, a necessary metamorphosis. I can see that you have a vision for your drugs, for _Whisper_ , Mr. Porter. All that I ask is that you clean it up, transform the conditions of your products into something more adequate.”

 

Sharon backs away from the Window in shock as Lo turns to watch her. “Sharon.” The witch clenches her fists as anger rattles her core. “Son of a bitch,” she shouts before marching ahead. Lo grabs onto her biceps and engulfs them in a black fog, quickly escaping to the parlor of her mansion. In response, Sharon gasps but manages to shove the demon before clearing the statues from a nearby shelf with her arm. Afterwards she moves to the table and swipes a decorative vase there before launching it at a wall. The violent outburst climaxes as she kicks a chair over with a feral roar before covering her face. Tears stream down her cheeks inciting more rage as she begins hitting herself repeatedly.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Lo tugs Sharon’s hands from her face in distress. “Stop it! Look at me Sharon,” she demands. The trembling consul bows her head under scrutiny as the demon tilts her own. “Who was that man,” the latter questions. “A mistake,” the former answers, peering up slowly. She sniffles and tilts her head before exhaling deeply. “I thought I was using him to mask my loneliness but as you can see he’s been playing me all along. He’s the damn drug lord I’ve been after!” Shaking her head she opts to flee the suffocating space but Lo holds onto her hand, confronting her with an intrusive gaze.

“The truth is that I’m a very sad, damaged woman. It’s no wonder I got involved with someone like him. I’m always looking for _one_ person in everyone, the person that never even loved me no matter how much I worshipped her.”

Lo shakes her head furiously. “That’s not true. I was never going to be good enough. You’ve always deserved better, a world free of pain,” she claims. “There was always you right? That’s what you told me right before you died,” Sharon recounts. “There was always you and me so just say it. I can’t keep waiting for you, Lo.” She shakes her head as the teary eyed demon pores over her.

“I can’t. I can’t make that promise.”

Sharon rips her hand away from Lo’s grasp and sprints past her. “Sharon!” She reaches the foyer just as the demon manifests in her path. “I love you!” They both gawk at each other while breathing heavily. “But I’m not selfish enough to keep you chained to me.” The clattering of the front door cuts through the deafening silence. “You have to leave and never come back.”

“Lo.”

“Get out,” Lo orders fervently. Her eyes shift to complete darkness as two black tears spill from them. The front door bursts open and Sharon watches the terror unfold before abruptly disappearing.

* * *

 

The dungeon gate opens alerting Veda to an unexpected presence. Upon discovering Mikaela standing at a distance the witch offers a weary smile. “Littlest bird.” She tries to sit up against the stone behind her, but a staunch force holds her in place. “You hurt Auntie Bex, Mama and Auntie Bridget too. You’re bad,” Mikaela states, frowning. Veda shakes her head frantically.

“Many of the things they have said aren’t true. I wanted to protect this family, but your mother turned her back on me. She allowed your aunt to steal my magic! Together they all have taken my only means to a family!”

“You’re lying! You’re not supposed to hurt people!”

Mikaela balls her fist as she unleashes her magic. Veda yelps out in excruciating pain before looking down to find blood pooling on her chest. She covers the wound with both hands and quickly peers up at the vengeful child. “Forgive me! Every word you speak is just! I may be wicked, but you are not little bird! You are pure, full of hope and grace. Do not taint your innocence for the sake of punishing me. Leave that burden to your family!” Mikaela widens her eyes and drops her hand as she quivers in fear. Veda exhales rapidly and throws her head back in sudden relief.

“I don’t deserve your mercy or salvation, certainly not your favor…but you have to remember. You are everything good in your mother and you must not let that go.”

Mikaela gapes at Veda before hurrying over to lower onto her knees beside her. She takes the brunette’s hands from her chest to hold in her own as tears well into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Veda. I shouldn’t have done that,” she utters, shaking her head. Veda gazes into tumultuous hazel eyes before cupping Mikaela’s cheeks. “There, there. You wish to be the protector, rightfully so. It’s only natural when it’s in your blood,” the former coos, tilting her head. “Sweet, sensitive child. So masterful yet unaware of it.” Mikaela feels a hidden sadness radiating from the complex woman.

“What happened to you, Miss Veda?”

While exploring the attentive eyes set on her Veda picks up on the deeper meaning. “Long ago I suffered under too much depravity. In time I transformed into that pain and anger itself. I had forgotten what pure innocence was until I laid eyes on your mother. She awakened what little good resided in me and because you are her light you have done the same,” she proclaims.

Mikaela leans in to wrap her arms around Veda who holds her close while quietly shedding a tear. She wills her magic to erase the evidence of her brutal wrath. “You’re not bad but you do very bad things. You hurt people so they won’t hurt you, but you can’t do that. You have to try to do good things, for Mama and for everyone.” Right on cue Freya jogs into the dungeon and freezes at the sight before her. “Mikaela?” The blonde watches Veda and Mikaela separate to gaze at her before she hastily moves to pick the child up. “What are you doing,” she questions while glowering.

“I’ve done nothing. She came on her own, intent on protecting you.”

Freya notices the blood on Veda’s shirt, easily identifying it as the site of heart extraction. An ache of failure settles in her own chest before she focuses on her daughter by running a hand over thick curls. “Are you okay, baby girl?” Mikaela shakes her head in shame. “I’m sorry, Mama. I hurt Miss Veda,” she cries out. “You’ve healed me, little bird. Remember your grace,” Veda reassures.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Freya soothes. Her eyes flit to Veda as Mikaela buries her face into the crook of her neck. “Stay away from my daughter. The last thing she needs is you getting into her head. Look at what that did for me.” Firm emerald orbs pierce regretful chestnut ones for several moments. “Be grateful for her mercy. And count yourself lucky that it wasn’t me in her place.”

* * *

 

In her fantastic library, Bridget sifts through substantial material as Marcel observes her from a distance. The pair have been in this position for what seems like an eternity after their souls were propelled into the serene pocket dimension. “How does it work,” the vampire suddenly asks. The witch continues to scan the words across a page. “How does what work,” she throws back.

“Being with a vampire when your blood makes you the ultimate party favor.”

Planting her palms to the table Bridget finally peers up at Marcel. “Simple,” she remarks, shrugging. “She doesn’t bite, and I don’t let her feed on me. Well…unless it’s an emergency, life-and-death to be exact.” The vampire tilts his head. “So you’re not worried about _in case of an emergency_ becoming a _just because free-for-all_ ,” he questions, earning a pair of narrowed eyes on him.

“Are you objectifying me? I am a living, breathing person you know. Not a magical blood bank.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that once I had a taste I’m not so sure I could’ve stopped without the psychic intervention. Davina _died_ because Kol couldn’t stop himself and I know that Rebekah won’t be able to _live_ with herself if anything happens to you.”

Bridget examines Marcel closely before standing up straight to face him completely. “What am I supposed to do,” the former queries. “Should I just leave her because of something neither of us can change? What we are? Maybe I’ve given you the wrong impression because I’m not the type to just abandon the people I love when it gets tough. I’ll _find_ a way.” The latter lifts his chin.

“She left you hanging didn’t she,” he surmises. Shaking her head Bridget returns to the information on the table. “We need a plan to destroy that gauntlet. I don’t wanna risk screwing anything to hell with my trusty new absorption technique but clearly Davina’s disabling spell can only get us so far with JD’s armor.” Marcel comes over to stand beside her as he looks over the page.

“Nah, I’ve seen that spell in action. It’ll work,” he assures, tapping the book. “You just have to combine it with your thing. Your psychic abilities and Davina’s magic together? That’s the real power right there.” Bridget rests her chin on her shoulder while eyeing him with uncertainty. “Diana once told me that the key to Psionic Magic was balancing the two energies. It’s give and take. Where one side falls short the other has to amplify it but never overpower it. It just takes a lot of practice because it’s too easy to overwhelm yourself trying. But if you only focus on the psychic side of things and let Davina handle the magic part I know we can make it work.”

Bridget tilts her head in realization. “A perfect union. I think you’re right, Mr. Strategy. If I draw energy from my mind at the same time Davina draws upon Nature for energy then we can Mindcraft that bitch,” she concludes excitedly. Marcel nods in short with an amused grin. “Sounds like a plan,” he states in agreeance. Bridget mirrors his expression while nodding.

* * *

 

“Although this incident occurred off school grounds my zero violence policy still applies. I can’t have students showing up here like they just got out of a cage match. It sends the wrong message and engaging in activities such as underaged drinking is most definitely not tolerated for those attending this school either.”

“I wasn’t drinking, Principal Thornton. I was literally the only sober person at that party so why don’t you talk to Aniya about her ongoing harassment,” Jordan requests from her seat by the door. In the chair next to her Keelin gives a stern look. “Stop, Jordan. You had no business there and that’s _exactly_ why I wanted you home. Don’t make this any worse than it already is,” she scolds.

A wavy-haired woman perched in the chair to the werewolf’s left scoffs. “How could this be any worse? Would it take the half breed savagely killing my baby to get the proper attention here,” she questions, shaking her head. Aniya rubs her forehead with irritation. “Mom,” she groans. Principal Thornton warns the woman with an austere expression. “Not now, Kimberley.”

Keelin glances between the twosome. “Well now I see the problem. There’s obviously some things that need to change around here,” she remarks. Kimberley turns her head to eye the wolf incredulously. “Actually no. Nothing needs to change at this school for talented _witches_.” Keelin glares at the woman’s intentional snark but maintains her composure. Jordan gestures a hand towards the parent. “Lo and behold. Aniya has a bigoted witch for a mother. No wonder she’s miserable and now fatherless,” she quips, nonchalant.

“Well at least I wasn’t adopted and lied to my entire life! Your _parents_ were clearly ashamed of their part-dog daughter. You might as well have been a pity pet,” Aniya bites. “Enough! This behavior is beyond ridiculous. I won’t stand for it,” Principal Thornton declares. “Good. The little heathen is all types of disrespectful. Just get it over with and expel her, Brandy,” Kimberley chimes.

“Excuse me,” Keelin speaks up. “I’m against violence but I’m not above defending my niece. Judging by how unprofessional you are I can only imagine what Jordan has been experiencing with your daughter.” Kimberley leans back in her chair and mumbles while fixing her pastel pink blazer. Keelin redirects her gaze to Principal Thornton. “And with all due respect, I don’t find being on a first name basis with the mother of my niece’s bully very professional either. Being a witch is just as much a part of Jordan’s heritage and she has the right to be here like everyone else, _free_ of harassment.”

Principal Thornton shakes her head. “I’m not insinuating that Jordan deserves anything else but fair treatment. Yes, I have personal ties to Aniya but that will never compromise my duty as an administrator. I will be issuing punishments for both girls,” she affirms. Jordan abruptly rises to her feet. “This isn’t fair, and you know it! I tried to avoid Aniya but she’s constantly targeting _me_ out of everyone. There was nothing else I could’ve done besides defending myself and that’s what I did. You can’t punish me for that,” she shouts. Sighing, Principal Thornton clasps her fingers.

“There was something else you could’ve done, Jordan. You could’ve come to _me_ about it. Instead you took it to a whole other level with violence, assault. I found out about this from a video circulating around of you running away as Aniya was left bruised and humiliated.”

“And you don’t think I was left the same? Since I’ve been back here all I’ve been trying to do is just blend in. And then I wanted to be invisible, to disappear.” Jordan extends a hand over to Aniya who looks remorseful. “Since day one she’s shamed me, cornered me, and bullied me. I didn’t want to admit that her words have really screwed with my self esteem. Not to you, my aunt or anyone.” She shakes her head. “And she told me that you would never do anything to stop it. Right now I officially believe her so just expel me, Principal Thornton. It’s better for everyone if the heathen half breed just disappears.” Without another word she grabs her backpack from the floor and tugs the door open to make a swift exit.

Aniya is suddenly up on her feet until her mother yanks her back down with a scowl. “Let her go,” the latter whispers urgently. Principal Thornton releases her self-directed frustration in a heavy breath as Keelin stands tall. “Dr. Mikaelson,” she pleads. The wolf shakes her head. “You won’t have to worry about that punishment. As of now my niece won’t be attending this school. Thank you for opening my eyes to her reality here.” After adjusting her purse she hastens out the door leaving Principal Thornton, Aniya, and Kimberley to watch silently with varying shades of guilt.

* * *

 

The overcast view of the Crescent City Connection is the point of interest for Rebekah. A breeze rushes through her golden locks as she observes the bridge from the solitude of the docks. She recognizes faint rumbling in the pocket of her leather jacket and retrieves her cell phone before glancing at the screen. After tapping it she brings the device to her ear.

“Well it’s about bloody time.”

“Sorry for the late response, sister. It must be Christmas if I’m receiving a delicate message from you,” Kol quips on the other end of the line. “Not quite,” Rebekah sighs. “Unless this is the most miserable Christmas known to man. Currently, I’m staring at the Mississippi alone, _terrified_ , and stubborn as ever. Seems I’m always finding myself here one way or another.”

“Ah, the classic Mikaelson response to realizing life does in fact go on despite ourselves.”

Rebekah licks her lips. “Only I want to live, Kol. I’ve finally found something worth enduring my curse for yet I’m afraid I’ll ruin it the moment I fully give in. How ironic is that,” she ponders. “This depressing introspection isn’t about a certain friendly witch is it,” Kol inquires knowingly. Rebekah tilts her head while knitting her brows. “Bloody hell. Does the whole world know at this point?”

“Hayley told Davina about the eventful Mikaelson after party on Saturday. I’m just disappointed I didn’t get to see the look on Freya’s face when she discovered that her little sister is shagging her best mate. Something tells me it was priceless.”

“Ha-ha, laugh it up but the joke’s on you. We were planning to tell everyone that night but Freya’s Mommy Dearest just had to rock fragile matters,” Rebekah states, sighing. “Be grateful you’re not a little sister for her to protect. One taste of pure witch blood is an intense rush of euphoria…power. Because of it, I could lose myself to murder and mayhem at any moment, yet Freya still views Bridget as _my_ undoing.”

“You fear hurting her because of who you are. Not surprising, Bex. But you’ll find a way to get through it if you really want to be with her. If I managed to come back from magic-related bloodlust there has to be a way for the girl holding out for true love.”

Rebekah remains quiet for a moment in consideration. “Do you ever think about how much you don’t deserve Davina,” she queries. “Well honestly I’m too busy enjoying my happiness with her to care,” Kol shoots back. “Seriously. Even when all you have to offer her are issues upon issues and a curse that lingers among our family, claiming anyone who gets too close to us,” Rebekah poses.

“What I’ve found in Davina is peace, love, and acceptance. She knew what I was, a psychotic killer, a monster from a toxic family and still she helped me change for the better. Death has torn us apart but fighting to survive the unending torment brought us closer together. Now I get to have someone by my side, I get to share a beautiful home with the girl who’s mine. I was lucky enough to meet the love of my life and to experience the greatest rush this world could ever offer me. If you want the same you can’t let fear rule everything around you. You’ll fight through hell and back for that chance at a new beginning. I know you will, little sister.”

Rebekah shakes her head at the moment of undeniable truth. “I bloody hate it when you’re actually right,” she remarks. Kol chuckles genuinely. “Yet you appreciate my great wisdom. So mind my words, Bex. You can’t help but be so much happier when you finally go get the girl,” he advises lightheartedly. Rebekah bites back a wide grin as she brightens with newfound hope.

* * *

 

In the nursery, Bridget rests against the crib while fiddling with the moon and stars mobile. Marcel pokes his head in through the cracked door before quietly entering. “Everything’s all set. Ready to go?” He watches as Bridget shifts her weight off the railing before awkwardly rubbing her hands on her jeans. “Yeah. Just, uh, take my hands and we’ll be on the first train back to battle.” Marcel scrutinizes the pureblood while following the instructions and licks his lips as she lowers her head to concentrate. “You’re right to not just give up on her,” he speaks.

Questioning eyes peer up at him. “That last year or so we were together, things weren’t the best between us. A lot of fighting, then no speaking until…we were finally drifting apart. Soon we were living separate lives as I drew closer to New Orleans and she held on tighter to her family…onto you.” Bridget tilts her head with an empathetic gaze and Marcel nods while looking up in thought.

“You know, I should’ve caught on when the arguments were adding up right around the time you started seeing people.” The vampire fixes his eyes back to the witch. “I always assumed if she was picking a fight then at least it meant we still had something worth fighting for. I know the difference now. She was fighting me, but she was fighting _for_ you.” He shakes his head. “She shared every single side with you. It was in the way she smiled, the way she laughed. The way she looked at you proved that she was never gonna abandon what she felt.”

“Feelings or not I was never going to interfere with a relationship. That goes for her too, she was committed to you.”

Marcel smirks appreciatively. “The thing about commitment is it takes more than just promises and hope. You need the courage and the sacrifice, the heart and the determination to make it worthwhile. Rebekah was the first woman I ever loved. She loved me and we spent centuries trying to see that through but…we both had big dreams pushing out any space left for committing to that love,” he proclaims. Bridget supplies a soft gaze of understanding before nodding. “Thank you for telling me that,” she state genuinely, holding onto his hands. Marcel nods simply, staring back at her. Their individual spirits take flight from the sunny realm in search of their physical bodies.

With a deep gasp they simultaneously raise up in the courtyard of the Touro-Shakespeare. They shoot each other a critical look before Marcel offers a hand to Bridget. The witch grasps it without hesitation and is delivered to the old chapel in record speed. Inside, Davina is holding her hands out towards JD who’s surrounded by intense flames.

“Where were you guys? That gauntlet is protecting him, it’s too strong.” Bridget grabs onto the brunette’s left hand. “No time to explain. Just keep focusing on the spell and let me handle the rest,” she directs. Davina shakes her head wearily but assists her partner. “Just don’t get us killed today. De tu me ne s’en fin. De tu me ne s’en fin,” she chants.

Bridget concentrates on her inner desire, successfully drawing from internal energy as her irises shift to a charged blue. Marcel and Davina raise their brows at the unique occurrence until a massive blast of energy plows through the fire barrier setting JD and the gauntlet aflame. Their enemy yells in agony before crumbling to ash, leaving no trace of him behind except for the burning armor. Davina waves a hand to quell the flames as Bridget’s eyes return to their normal hue. The former turns to regard her friends with a comical expression. “So…that was unexpected but pretty badass,” she remarks. Marcel shakes his head with a chuckle and Bridget exhales before doing the same.

* * *

 

“Jordan. Slow down.”

Jordan halts her marching through the courtyard to spin around with a neutral appearance. “Yes Aunt Keelin,” she questions. Keelin settles in front of her, slightly concerned. “This whole time you were dealing with this at school and you didn’t tell me. I finally find out and now you have nothing to say about it,” she asks. Her niece shakes her head while raising her arms and dropping them.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I just want you to talk to me about your feelings. That’s what I’m here for.”

Jordan feigns pondering the matter. “Okay, let’s see. I’m feeling a good riddance to the _prestigious_ Millenia School of Arts and hmm…I’m feeling like maybe I should get the fuss all over with and just trigger my gene,” she retorts. “The witches have already disowned me anyway, what’s one little step further?” She looks away but Keelin cups her cheeks to reestablish eye contact.

“Sweetie. That one little step further means taking a life and losing your innocence. I know you don’t want that, so we need to work through this. No more secrets.”

Jordan tilts her head while releasing the tension from her body. “Please don’t send me back to therapy. I’ll do anything,” she begs. Keelin tilts her own head with a gentle look. “Therapy isn’t a punishment, Jordan. It’s a healthy way for you to unpack everything you’ve been through. You’ve been hiding things from me, even _lying_. If you’re not meeting me halfway then I don’t know what else to do.” Jordan carefully removes Keelin’s hands from her face to hold them tightly.

“I’m _sorry_ okay? I know that I should be more open and honest, but you don’t exactly make it easy for me. I feel guilty about coming to you for anything.”

“Why? You and Mikaela are most important to me. You’re my life, my legacy. You’re everything that matters to me and nothing will ever change that.”

Jordan widens her eyes. “See! There it is! You look at me like some hybrid miracle meant to be protected at all costs, but I’m just a troubled kid that got passed off on you because _tragedy_ ,” she claims. Keelin shakes her head in protest. “No, you weren’t passed off on me because _tragedy_. I _fought_ for you, me and Freya. First with the Kindred and then with Sharon because I’ve wanted you since before I even knew you existed,” she attests, grinning. “For so long I hoped and prayed that one day my family would miraculously come back. In a way you were the answer to that, a beautiful piece of something I lost. So yeah, maybe I am guilty of looking at you with pride and holding you too close because to me, you _are_ a miracle Jordan Marie Matthews.”

Tears well up in Jordan’s eyes as she shakes her head. “You’re really doing it to me, Aunt Keelin.” Keelin laughs before wiping at a tear in her own eye and reaching up to pet the hybrid’s soft curls. “I’m sorry. Family is always a soft spot for me,” she quips, gaining a chuckle in response. “Then I’ll work on living up to my status as a miracle. Starting by letting you in on my feelings and such.”

“And I’ll try not to make you feel like there’s something you need to live up to. How’s that?”

“Good. I love you, Aunt Keelin.”

Sighing, Keelin brings Jordan into her arms before breathing in her sweet scent. “I love you too sweetie, so much.” She feels a pair of arms hold onto her tighter. “But I’m still gonna have to discipline you for going to that party.” Jordan snorts while savoring the moment. “As long as it’s not therapy I’m good with that,” she retorts, content.

* * *

 

At the Lafayette tomb, Bridget closes her eyes while a blue shard of ice levitates above the table. The airtight door pushes open and Rebekah slips in, quirking an eyebrow while spectating the scene. “Well that’s new.” Brown eyes crack open to meet blue ones causing the ice to melt into the beaker on the table. Cautiously, Bridget maneuvers around the mess but keeps her distance. “I…was trying out cryokinesis. Today I’ve learned that I’m not quite there on blending my magic with my deeper mind but…that doesn’t mean I can’t try, as much as I can on the meds anyway.”

Rebekah takes a few tentative steps closer. “Despite the disadvantage you’ve cut Marcel free of one lunatic sireling. Good work,” she commends, earning a smirk. “Team effort. Davina’s magic did the talking and Marcel, well he mostly just talked. The talk was necessary though.” Rebekah chuckles before biting her lip and Bridget tilts her head while examining her.

“I didn’t think you would come.”

“Bridget.”

“I know. You freaked out because _oh my god_ I realized you’re a horrible bloodsucking monster.”

“You _saw_ me living up to my true nature as a horrible bloodsucking monster. Even in my pathetic dreams our endgame is me brutally murdering you.”

“Your subconscious was trying to cope with the pain. I know you won’t do that in the real world.”

“Do you? Can you truly say for certain because I can’t,” Rebekah contends, shaking her head. “I’ve already lost control once in the real world. Who’s to say it won’t prove to be deadly the next time?” Bridget finally crosses the distance to meet the blonde. “Me. I’m telling you that what your temporarily poisoned mind showed you isn’t us. We’re going to get through this, just like everything else standing in our way as long as you trust me. Trust in what we have, Rebekah.”

Rebekah exhales softly while looking into devoted eyes. “With you by my side I have all the trust in what we have.” Bridget offers a small smile before reaching into her pocket. Within seconds she’s displaying a sowing needle between them. “You and me are different but we’re two bodies connected by a strong thread of energy. It can either pull us in closer or drive us further apart. The key is to find balance, as with anything. Where you fall short I’ll hold you up, where I stray you’ll pull me back in. We give and we take but we always keep each other grounded, anchored. Do you trust me?”

“Yes. I trust you.”

“I trust you too.”

Using the needle Bridget pricks her thumb before cradling Rebekah’s cheek. “I will always keep you anchored.” She searches the ocean eyes on her before slowly dragging her thumb down rosy lips. Those same eyes darken with hunger as the original rapidly grips the nimble hand. Exhaling, she eases her aggressive instincts and brings the blood-speckled thumb to her mouth to gently suck it clean. Bridget observes the unpredictably sensuous action before pulling Rebekah into a heated kiss. Strong arms wrap around her frame and in a flash her back is to the nearest table. She eagerly peels the leather jacket off her girlfriend’s shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor as she tugs a floral blouse over the blonde’s head.

Rebekah cups Bridget’s cheeks to desperately reattach their lips before helping to eliminate the thermal shirt depriving them of skin to skin contact. They hastily clear the chemistry tools from the table, ignoring the loud crashing of glass as the original lies the pureblood on top and straddles her in one swoop. Their equally penetrating eyes lock onto each other for a moment.

“I’m not as fragile as you think,” Bridget breathes. Taking the bit of encouragement Rebekah slowly dips her head to reconnect their passionate lips. She starts a short trail of firm kisses to her girlfriend’s neck before liberating her fangs and biting down on tender flesh. As Bridget grips Rebekah’s lower back her hands begin to glow before her irises are electrified. Suddenly energized she flips the blonde onto her back and hovers over her. Their breaths intermingle while they take in each other’s unveiled features. Rebekah reaches up to cradle Bridget’s magnetic face in her hands, caressing her cheekbone with a thumb as she ogles the veins of lightning there. Bridget traces the dark lines rippling on Rebekah’s face before lowering her head to capture parted lips.

* * *

 

Freya quietly makes her way down the staircase as she spots Keelin perched on the couch, head in hand while scrolling through her tablet. “I finally got her to sleep. I thought that occupying her with the Quarter would create a decent distraction but…” She sighs out. “All day she worried about Veda.” She comes to stand over her wife who peers up at her soberly. “Why wouldn’t she be worried? I’m surprised she’s not completely traumatized after what happened. We should’ve let her go with Hayley as planned.”

“Because sending her off to school would’ve done wonders just like it did for Jordan.”

“Not the same. The Salvatore School serves a purpose centered around kids like Mikaela and Jordan. They could have acceptance, the right guidance. If we’re being honest with ourselves they would’ve been better off with that safety and security.”

Freya subtly nods before dropping her gaze to the floor and interlocking her fingers. “You’re right. And that’s exactly why I’m terrified of having this baby.” Keelin zones in on the green eyes piercing her own, wholeheartedly surprised to be hearing the admission. “You could never fully understand how much I hate myself for it but since I found out…I’ve been wishing it away. Every second of every day I will continue to resent the fact that there’s a life growing inside of me. Another life depending on the product of hatred, cruelty, and spite. I barely convinced myself to be there for Mikaela, to raise her the way she deserved with unconditional love. You were carrying my child and still I would’ve rather abandoned you and our family than to believe in something better. I’m cursed, Keelin.”

Freya shakes her head as tears pool in her eyes. “I’m damaged and paranoid. I’m _broken_. Every day is a reminder of that, so I owe it to you to lay it all on the table. I don’t know if I can trust and believe in this baby. I just couldn’t survive another loss like this so I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.” Keelin is immediately up and embracing Freya who encircles her shoulders while trembling.

“Shh,” the former utters, rubbing her wife’s back to comfort her. “I know, baby. But you owe it to yourself to accept who you really are. You’re a survivor. Every day is a reminder that you’ve fought through the darkness that tried to destroy you. This child is a reminder of all the good you have to offer and he or she will have no choice but to survive because of that. Look at us.” She pulls back to gaze at Freya while tilting her head. “We’ve made it this far through everything, good and bad. I refuse to give up on you and our baby before they even make it into this world. So if you can’t carry that weight just yet then put it all on me. No matter what, I will fight for the both of us like you did for me once upon a time. I just need you to believe in us okay?”

Freya licks her lips and nods before wiping her eye with an overwhelmed sigh. “I know there’s a lot for me to do now. And it’s not gonna be easy,” she remarks, shaking her head. “No one ever said it would be. But we’re gonna get through it together, one step at a time,” Keelin affirms. Freya tilts her head. “I love you so much,” she attests, earning a hopeful smile. “I love you more.” They embrace again as Keelin exhales deeply before flitting her eyes upward.

“We’re survivors.”


	12. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya and Keelin have their first Pre-natal appointment; Jamie awakens Sharon from her coma; Rebekah goes above and beyond to ensure a perfect birthday for Bridget; While visiting Alana with Mikaela, Jordan makes a big decision; In the wake of Dominique's funeral Isla spends the day tying up loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back with another chapter to wrap up the first half. I guess it's like a midseason finale deal lol. Either way there's a motherhood theme for the characters in this one and some major foreshadowing. TRIGGER WARNING: There is an attempted suicide. Next chapter is set after the passage of some time and is about the state of each Mikaelson sibling as they enter another new year individually. Conflict will be picking up from there surrounding the family and evolving into a bigger crisis for the Freelin baby so get ready. As always I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Andreya Triana - Heart In My Hands: Isla and Emilia talk at Dominique's gravesite.
> 
> 2) Rubblebucket - Annihilation Song: Freya and Keelin's appointment Part 1; Bridget wakes up to Rebekah's antics.
> 
> 3) BANNERS - Ghosts: Bridget looks through photo albums; Jordan asks Alana for help.
> 
> 4) LOVE SICK - Hope: Hayden and Isla talk at Riverwalk.
> 
> 5) George Taylor - Come Follow Me Down: Sharon goes to the Twilight Dimension.
> 
> 6) Oh Wonder - Midnight Moon: Bridget voices her worries about the prospect of aging and receives Rebekah's reassurance.
> 
> 7) David O'Dowda - All Alone: Jordan and Alana perform Bernadette's locator spell.
> 
> 8) SYML - Wildfire: Freya comes to see Veda in the dungeon.
> 
> 9) Felicity - Pilot With A Fear Of Heights: Hayden and Isla talk in bed.
> 
> 10) Freya Ridings - Ultraviolet: Sharon and Lo talk after forging the weapon against Jamie.
> 
> 11) Jasmine Thompson - I Will Follow You Into The Dark: Freya, Veda, and Keelin say their goodbyes.
> 
> 12) Lilla Vargen - Downtown: Bridget and Rebekah exchange surprise gifts.
> 
> 13) Sophie Lowe - Trust: Sharon gets revenge on Alex.
> 
> 14) Kate York - Bound Together: Freya and Bridget make amends before Hayden shows up to join the party.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

Sharon gasps for air as she’s brought out of the darkness and into a blinding light. Her tired eyes begin to adjust to the room bathed in white and she rolls her head to the left, finding Jamie at her side. “Welcome back, Miss Vance. I trust that you’ll be pleasant this morning.” Jamie offers his customary restrained grin. Glaring, Sharon attempts to rise up in one motion and the psychic catches her before she falls off the marble counter.  “Careful now. You’ve been in a deep sleep for five nights consecutively. Things will be a little confusing so allow yourself time to readjust.”

He helps her to sit steadily on the edge of the counter and notes her frowning at the large closet space. “I hope you don’t mind. I had to place you out of the way during housekeeping hours. A cloaked coffin is not as convenient as one may think when it comes to a persistent Nicaraguan maid.” Sharon redirects her eyes to Jamie. “Charming,” she replies, unamused.

“Don’t act like you care about my wellbeing. You took pleasure in sending me to hell and back at your own petty convenience.”

“I thought I was quite generous in doing away with the nightmares that plague you each night. If this is about the duration I assure you it was necessary.”

“Quit the mind games. You sent me to the Twilight Dimension just to dangle Lo in front of me before revealing Alex’s true colors.”

Jamie tilts his head with a look of confusion. “Is that so? I’ve sent you there on a roundtrip solely for the purpose of torturing you through your tumultuous protector while presenting Mr. Porter’s duplicity when both could’ve easily been done here in the waking world.” Sharon narrows her eyes. “What are you saying? I decided to visit the land of broken dreams all on my own?”

Jamie steps closer prompting Sharon to ease back a bit. “What I’m saying is that under my control you were only placed in a deep, dreamless sleep. If you’ve truly reached another dimension it was your own doing,” he states. Sharon stares into his eyes, silently considering the fact that she was drawn to the exact place where Lo’s soul lingers. In life it was an inescapable cycle so would it be too farfetched in death? Her mind flickers back to the woman she had encountered at Mirage. She was confronted by the reminder of her longtime protector just before being taken so it certainly made sense. Without thinking twice she pushes Jamie and hops down to the floor before racing towards the door. A potent force inhibits her escape and drags her backwards.

“I’m sorry but I can’t just let you go, Miss Vance. As you know I’ve struck a deal and I’m a man of my word. Apparently, so is Mr. Porter. He’s been honorably cleaning up the streets and holding up his end of the bargain for the past few days.” Jamie’s telekinesis spins an indisposed Sharon around to face him. “Well that’s not surprising. He’s all about himself and so are you. Understanding his cancerous vision, politely asking him to make better drug conditions? What games are you playing here,” the latter questions.

“I take risks for potential payoff. I don’t expect you to see the bigger picture just yet.”

“Then why not just kill me and get it over with? Clearly I don’t fit into this mad men scheme.”

“Miss Vance, I’m appalled. It should be clear by now that I’m not a violent man. I lull unsuspecting souls to sleep for god’s sake.” Sharon eyes Jamie incredulously as he comes over to stand in front of her. “Despite Mr. Porter’s rugged demeanor and your current anger towards him he does in fact harbor true feelings for you. That makes you the perfect leverage to keep in my company.”

* * *

 

At Lafayette Cemetery, Isla approaches a tall brunette woman while shoving her hands into the pockets of her peacoat. They respectfully stand before a tomb engraved _Dominique Fournier_ as the coven leader regards the woman. “Are you okay, Mom?” Her mother lifts her chin with esteem and sighs before straightening her shoulders. “I’m fine, sweet pea. I’m just fine,” she answers, fixing her red scarf. Isla tilts her head. “The only time you call me sweet pea is when you’re bragging about my accomplishments. In other words you’re trying very hard to have it all together when it’s obvious you don’t.” Her mother swiftly turns to face her. “Excuse me? I am Emilia Evans, a descendant of the _famed_ Fournier witches. Havin’ it all together is in my blood,” she declares, righteous.

“Today you’ve just laid your only sibling to rest and tomorrow you’re going to be imprisoned. I know you’re terrified without me and Dominique’s protection.”

Emilia scoffs, shaking her thick dark curls. “Please. If anyone’s been doin’ the protectin’ in this family it’s me. Your auntie wouldn’t have survived for so long without my good charity. She never had the same _drive_ , ambition. She never had the backbone that we do. I mean look at you, sweet pea.” She pets Isla’s dark, golden brown locks before cradling her face.

“You’ve always been my beacon of hope, my greatest pride. Everything was goin’ so well for us wasn’t it? Me with my business affairs and you with runnin’ our coven like no one has before. That Moroccan Menace preyed upon the weakest link and now we are here. So maybe, just maybe my little sister is better off where she’s goin’. And I have survived far worse than a leave of privacy. You see I have nothin’ to worry about.” She provides a broad smile to cement her truth. “Well, besides the dynasty I’ve worked so hard to maintain of course.”

Isla removes the bony hands from her face. “Dominique was not the weakest link. She was the kindest, most morally centered one out of this family. And Veda, who’s Algerian by the way, came to _me_ first. Not Dominique,” she refutes, shaking her head. “So what does that make me, Mom? Will I still be your greatest pride once those shackles are slapped on your wrists and the bars are shut in your face for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t wanna talk about the details now. Would gettin’ a reaction out of me really satisfy you. Huh?”

“No, it wouldn’t. Or maybe yes it would because getting any real human emotion out of you right now would be great. Wait, I know! How about you tell me why you went through with destroying the Matthews. Pretty soon you’re going to be sitting in your sins alone so now is as good a time as any to confess.”

Emilia tilts her head in disbelief. “Seriously? You wanna do this now? We’re not even Catholic,” she remarks petulantly. Her daughter folds her arms with little amusement causing her to sigh exasperatedly. “To ensure a future for our family. There, are you happy?”

“I don’t believe you. In fact I think it was always about _you_. I mean it’s not like you were ever involved in my life enough to care that much. Definitely not on the _cursing an innocent girl for my future_ end of the scale.”

“Isla Jeanette Evans, I command you to take such false accusations back. I am your mother and I have cared for you in all twenty-nine years of your life. I was even supportive through each attempt to put a heaviness on my heart. First, you tell me about your _extra_ preference in women. There goes a good chance of my bloodline, but you know what? Fine, as long as my daughter is happy. Next, you tell me that you just _need_ to live in Paris. It was your callin’ you said, to get lost in the art and fall in love on _my_ dime might I add. I told you it wouldn’t last but you just knew you were right so what did I do? I set you free, only for you to come mopin’ back six months later, penniless and heartbroken. And finally, you tell _me_ that you would rather be a nurse than the next in line for leadin’ our coven. If it wasn’t for my great intuition you would’ve killed me that day. But one month later you were a nursin’ school dropout with a powerful coven sittin’ in the palm of your hand. Moral of the story, I always know best and I will always make sure you have the best whether you like it or not.”

Isla scowls, growing indignant by the second. “This isn’t about impulsive trips to Paris or indecisive career paths! You set two people up to be murdered and violated a child! For what Mom because it certainly wasn’t for me,” she shouts. “Dammit Isla! It was either them or us,” Emilia hollers back causing Isla to still herself.

“If it was up to Richard and Marie Matthews _none_ of us would’ve lived to tell about it. They were not of my coven nor of my blood, so you know what? I felt no way about what I had to do. And I wanted you to learn the hard truth of bein’ a leader so yes, I brought you into it too. But there was a moment when I just…took in Richard’s charming smile and Marie’s unexplainable warmth. They had no inclination of the company I was about to invite into their home, and it made me feel…guilty. I started to get second thoughts, so I sent you out to the car but once those vampires came I knew what I had to do. The look on their faces when they saw their sworn enemies was one I’ll never forget. The betrayal and the fear but also a sense of knowin’, acceptin’ their tragic fate as so called freedom fighters. After it was done their little girl wandered downstairs. She was a pretty thing, about fourteen I believe, and I was the only one left to keep her company. Once she saw the bodies she reacted as any child would. Askin’ what happened, _why_ did it have to happen. So I got down beside her and consoled her as if she was my own, reassurin’ her that everything would be okay. That was the God’s honest truth until I noticed a look in her eyes, a fierce spark I had only ever seen in her mother’s. That’s when I knew I had to snuff it out. For the sake of my own daughter’s future.”

Isla slowly rocks her head with disgust. “You’re a selfish monster so don’t put that on me. I’ve done nothing but defend you when all this time you knew you weren’t worthy of it. No more. You have to live with the evil choice you made.” Emilia maintains a cool demeanor. “Maybe you will have children of your own one day and see it differently. Until then don’t you dare judge me for bein’ your mother,” she demands. Isla clenches her jaw before backtracking and wheeling around to march away. Emilia fixes her lips and breathes out shakily while watching helplessly.

“Do you hear me, Isla? I will always be your mother!”

* * *

 

Health-related posters, tissues, a box of rubber gloves, and hand sanitizer. Freya bites her lip, roaming her eyes over the chilly room while sitting on an exam table. Keelin patiently holds onto the blonde’s hand and catches a glimpse of anxious features. “Nervous,” she asks. Freya settles her gaze on the wolf before summoning a confident grin.

“I’ve faced countless threats in over a thousand years. I’m sure I can get through this, Keelin.”

“Oh, I know you will. I got _the_ best OB-GYN for the job, trust me.”

Two quick knocks pound on the door before a brunette, donning a white lab coat, walks in smiling. “Hi there, Plucky.” Keelin lightly rolls her eyes. “Hey, Dr. Hot Pants,” she throws back. The doctor winks at her before greeting Freya with an outstretched hand. “Excuse the _unnecessary_ banter. I’m Dr. Lauren Ellis and I plan on taking great care of you and your little bean.”

Freya accepts the handshake politely. “Nice to meet you,” she responds. “Ellis may not be perfectly professional to me, but I know she’s what’s best for our baby. She’s probably one of the few doctors in this hospital that is aware of the supernatural, and by far the only one that has studied it extensively,” Keelin alleges.

“Correction. I’m like one of three who know about the community not counting you, Plucky. But yes, I used to travel a lot in the army and that’s when a few questions began to pop up. After finding out about the supernatural community I traveled across the country to study and help them. You could say I specialize in werewolf culture which is _why_ your determined wife escaped her gruesome playhouse and accosted me in the maternity wing.”

Freya looks between the two doctors with genuine amusement. “How did you two meet when you’re obviously from very different worlds,” she asks. “Well, even though this first visit is supposed to be all about you Mrs. Mikaelson I’m sure I can take one miscellaneous question. I am a people pleaser after all.” Keelin snorts. “Yeah. Everyone around here knows that,” she chirps.

Lauren proudly lifts her chin. “Mhm. By the way, I did _not_ go home empty handed after that crazy Sands of Time night. Just in case you were wondering,” she remarks. “Oh, I wasn’t,” Keelin retorts. “Good,” Lauren chimes before looking at Freya. “As you can see here we just _love_ each other’s company. Long story short I caught Plucky getting into a fight with a vending machine. When she lifted the damn thing off the ground and shook it like a salt shaker I quickly realized she was a wolf in doctor’s clothing. She was slightly embarrassed, I assured her I would keep it hush hush, and we’ve clicked ever since.”

“It was a long day and apparently I slipped up on the whole concealing my superhuman strength thing.”

“Well good thing you had me around. And now your bundle of joy will too.”

Keelin beams appreciatively and Lauren looks between the couple before clasping her hands together. “So. Your vitals are looking perfect. Usually this is the longest prenatal appointment there is but I’m aware of you guys’ special status as _semi-immortals_. I can’t promise it won’t be just as comprehensive as a human’s since I need to understand this, but it will definitely be different to say the least,” the latter informs. “What do you have in mind,” the former asks. Lauren sighs while slipping her hands into her pockets.

“Well you know, the same old tests and data collection. I guess the sound advice on nutrition, exercise, and prenatal vitamins is kinda out the door though huh?” Freya and Keelin provide apologetic looks. “Just making my job easier. The load of questions and answers are still very much on the table so first we’ll get a urine test in to confirm your pregnancy. Of course we’ll need some standard bloodwork done as well. After that we’ll go over your health history, what kinds of medications you might be taking or…I guess herbs in your case. Family history, any questions or concerns you may have.”

“Did…Keelin mention the fact that I was born in the 10th century and endured another form of immortality for a thousand years before this go around?”

Lauren raises her eyebrows. “No, she did not actually.” She removes her hands from her pockets and fixes her gaze to Keelin. “Sorry. That’s what this appointment is for guys,” the wolf claims. “Alrighty…well. You can look forward to finding out a due date and _possibly_ what your immortality means for the baby.” Freya and Keelin smile nervously in anticipation.

* * *

 

Bridget stirs in bed, gradually blinking her eyes open to find her limbs weighed down by a sea of marigolds. Rebekah saunters into the room with a phone pressed to her ear and squeezes another arrangement onto the bed. Then she smiles brightly at the pureblood as she leans over to kiss her forehead. “Good morning, sleepyhead. This is to be the very first of your birthday kisses.”

Bridget forces a smile in return and fails to sit up within the mess. “Um, Rebekah…” Her girlfriend wanders over to the doorway, obviously distracted by her phone call. “Yes, I want the most elegant one you can find. Mhm, lovely. I suppose I could settle for the most gorgeously epic one as well.” She pauses for a moment while listening. “Hmm. What the hell, just deliver them all by car to 721 Touro Street. I only want the very best for my sweetheart on her big day.” Finally, Bridget climbs her way out of the thick comforter and onto the multitude of marigolds.

“Rebekah,” she calls impatiently.

Spinning on her heels Rebekah regards Bridget before coming over to set her phone down on the bedside table. “What is it? I was just in the middle of securing other arrangements.” Resting on her knees the witch gives the vampire a displeased look while extending her arms. “I’m literally lying on a bed of roses,” she exclaims, earning a sly smirk in response.

“Don’t be silly, love. I’ve reserved that for later on tonight. These are your _I’m thinking of you_ birthday flowers.”

Bridget tilts her head before dropping her arms. “Babe, I’m serious. What is all this? Josh will kill me if I let you ruin this home in his absence,” she maintains. “Josh has finally got the ring and the perfect man to match. Are you really expecting him to come back here any time soon? At the earliest I give their cute little honeymoon next year until it turns sour,” Rebekah retorts.

“Wow. How kind of you to place a timer on their happiness. Could you please help me down? Thank you.”

With a sigh Rebekah grabs onto Bridget’s awaiting hands and guides her down to the floor. “Look, I only want this day to be special. It’s my first personal celebration spent as your darling girlfriend and is it truly a crime to give you what you deserve,” she poses, staring into chestnut eyes. Bridget feels a wave of deep sincerity washing over her.

“I guess not but can you please avoid going overboard? It’s just my birthday, a regular old Thursday not Mardi Gras alright?” Rebekah beams giddily. “Alright. So I was _thinking_ …first we have a lovely brunch with Hayden. She claims to have procured the perfect gift for you although I am positive it won’t begin to hold up well next to my surprises,” she affirms, chin raised.

“Hey, not a competition. It’s just a _regular_ day remember,” Bridget states as a reminder. “Fine fine whatever you fancy to call it.” Rebekah exhales while running her hands down the length of Bridget’s arms to grip her hands. “It doesn’t matter because it will be _perfect_. I promise you.” She presents an optimistic grin as her significant other gifts a lukewarm but grateful one in return.

* * *

 

On a grassy knoll rests Jordan and Alana, of which the hybrid sketches in her pad along with the orphan. “It’s so beautiful out here. I could stay right in this spot for hours.” Alana scans the landscape characterized by colorful sculptures and a large, sparkling pond. “Yeah. Everyone is so nice here too,” she informs before looking to Jordan. “I’m learning about magic, art, and history. I’ve actually made some friends too.”

“Well I’m really happy for you but admittedly jealous. One more lesson with Miss B and I might be out of the two friends I already have,” Jordan quips, instigating laughter.

“You really miss your regular school don’t you?”

“ _Miss_ is not exactly the right word. It’s hard to miss something that never actually belonged to you but for so long…it meant everything to me. Both of my parents went to Millenia, so it was always my dream to get a shot there too. Homeschool is fine. I’m definitely learning way more than I could ever learn at regular school, and with less restrictions. I get to be with family too but…I don’t know. It’s not the same.”

Alana gives an empathetic look. “Maybe you just need a little time to adjust. Things were obviously different before and now you’ve changed a bit I think,” she offers. Jordan nods while considering the situation. “Yeah. I think I have too,” she agrees. Mikaela comes running up the hill with another little girl and halts in front of them, nearly out of breath. “Jordan! Jordan!”

“What is it, Nugget?”

“Is it true that some people don’t have Mommies?”

Jordan knits her brows in confusion. “What,” she asks. Mikaela glances at the timid girl beside her before looking back to her cousin. “Brittany told me that she never had a Mommy, but I have two so how is that possible,” she questions, dumbfounded. Alana gazes at the innocent child with a light chuckle.

“Well, a lot of kids here are missing one. Some are even missing out on two parents like me. So how is it possible that you have _two_ Mommies when Brittany doesn’t have one? The answer is that you’re very lucky, Mikaela.”

A rueful Mikaela slowly turns to her new companion. “Sorry, Brittany. I can share my Mommies with you like I did with Alana if you want.” The slightly shorter girl nods and the hybrid gives her a comforting hug. Alana tilts her head at the sweet scene while Jordan gazes at the two little girls dejectedly.

* * *

 

An extravagant full course meal adorns a polished circular table underneath an intricate chandelier. Jamie takes a sip of his red wine and sets the glass down while observing Sharon, slumped in her powder blue chair with her arms folded. “You’ve barely touched the fillet. Is it not to your liking,” he inquires. Sharon tilts her head, eyeing her captor disbelievingly.

“Cut the crap. Why am I still here having lunch as your captive when Kayla is constantly checking on me? She should know that something is terribly wrong by now. I am the Queen and that means keeping up appearances in case you didn’t know.”

“Indeed it does. Let’s just say we had a mishap that night you attempted to murder me. I had witnesses and video surveillance while you only had an emotional breakdown and a long history of substance abuse. Your Attaché practically begged me not to end your social life.”

Sharon sits up in her chair. “You psychotic son of a bitch,” she growls. Jamie raises a hand to her. “Please allow me to finish my explanation. Right now you are facing suspension indefinitely. Miss Bordeaux has someone checking in on you periodically, or should I say the projection of you I’ve manifested within your apartment,” he informs.

“Bilocation, how innovative. And you still believe your integrity is somehow intact because of your _polite_ way of doing things,” Sharon retorts, leaning in closer. “But you’re just a pathetic bionic man violating my life. I _hate_ you. And I will find a way to end you before you can even _taste_ that supernatural buffet of your dreams.”

“Don’t give me all the credit, Miss Vance. I’ve come to realize that your life was violated the night you met Lorraine Easley and learned to become dependent on someone. You should know that in this world it’s dog eat dog, every man for himself. And that is precisely why I am determined to create my own heaven while never knowing hell.” Jamie pushes the bottle of wine over to Sharon.

“Perhaps you should start considering the same.”

* * *

 

“Sisters.”

Isla stands before her coven in the double parlor. “Well it certainly feels like déjà vu as I’m standing here in front of you for the very last time. A month ago I solidified a decision that has negatively impacted us all. I’m woman enough to admit it, the fact that I was so incredibly and stupendously wrong for going against the better half of you, and for encouraging the other half to feel sane in your choice to follow me. At this point all I can do is try my best to rectify that irresponsible mistake and to ask for your forgiveness. I can honestly say now that protecting any sort of injustice, no matter who the perpetrator is, makes each of us just as guilty for the crime. If I was ever truly fit to be your leader and not just a privileged recipient of favoritism, I would’ve known that. Regardless, it has been humbling to be a part of this sisterhood…and I am gracious for the experience but also deeply saddened to leave it behind in such a way. Honestly, I could’ve done more…”

Isla looks at all the diverse faces around the room. “ _Better_ for all of you. Despite these troubling emotions I am still honored to pass the pin over to the next successor. May this sister lead with the fairness, loyalty, integrity, and selflessness I’ve failed to uphold.” With a deep breath she musters a smile for the Asian woman in the front row. “Anming. I know how hard it’s been for you this past week, but I need you to know it was never your fault.” She shakes her head. “You are a fiercely loyal sister and the Ancestors’ work can’t change that. You were the very first one to challenge Veda’s arrogance, only leaving your stance in the absence of freewill. Because of that, I present to you the Garden Gate Pin. Congratulations and may you lead with longevity.”

Anming freezes with astonishment as the witches drown her in applause. After the moment sinks in for her she tentatively approaches Isla. She allows her knit sweater to be pinned with a tiny house-shaped badge and marvels at the cornstalk fence engraved in it before engulfing her former leader in a tight hug. “Favoritism might’ve got you in, but we kept you around because you’re a good leader, Isla.” Isla exhales in relief. “Thank you,” she whispers graciously. “May you live in peace, Isla.” They pull away to look at the chanting coven with bittersweet grins.

* * *

 

Lauren glides a small transducer probe across Freya’s gel-covered pelvis before finally holding it in place. Keelin stands at her wife’s right side, eyes glued to the nearby monitor as she grasps her hand. “I’m sorry that it’s not much to see just yet lovebirds but I can triple, and quadruple confirm that there’s a little bean in there. Based on all the information I’ve gathered, our tests, and your hCG levels…you are about seven weeks into your pregnancy.” Lauren removes the transducer probe as the couple share wide smiles. Keelin leans down to tenderly kiss Freya who cups her cheek.

“It’s a long ways away but you can expect to meet your little girl somewhere around June 3rd of next year. I’m assuming you want a memento from your first successful doctor visit in centuries.”

Freya and Keelin chuckle while redirecting their elated gaze to the doctor. “Yes,” the former nods, tearing up. “Thank you.” Lauren grins softly. “No problem at all,” she assures. Keelin shakes her head as she processes the information. “I’m sorry. I was caught up in a beautiful moment, but did you just say we’re expecting another daughter,” she questions, earning a shrug from her friend.

“Well I didn’t wanna jump the gun and offer one of those cell-free tests just yet but obviously you’re having a girl.”

“Obviously?”

“I told you that our secondborn would be a _her_ , Keelin.”

Lauren tilts her head incredulously. “Jesus Christ. Do I really have to go over genetics with the self-proclaimed super scientist,” she asks comically. Keelin shrugs with a shake of her head. “Try me,” she provokes. Lauren shakes her own head. “So, between you two are four X chromosomes right? You need one X and one Y to get a bouncing baby boy,” she starts off.

“Now I know what you’re thinking, _I kinda grew a baby maker in an intense moment with my wife_ , but that’s not entirely true in a sense. Magically, your body is able to transform in order to suit your mating purpose due to that trait your bloodline picked up from a Khan wolf. A trait only traceable back to the Sierra Pack which I’ve studied extensively. Scientifically? Well once your beautiful partner got you all excited on your birthday night your hormones were rapidly synthesized by your adrenal glands and ovaries. That stimulated more androgen secretions and boom, transformation began in your ovaries causing spermatogenic crypts to start popping up all over the place. Your genetical material was then transported through tubes on the periphery of your ovaries and your oviducts until they reached your newly morphed clitoral extrusion. Notice how lady parts are my only point of reference? Despite the miraculous hybridization of your reproductive system, your genetics remain the same and no magic can alter that. You and your perfect mate here can only make blushing baby girls. Keep this up and you’ll have plenty for a hybrid cheerleading squad.”

Freya is confounded as Keelin raises her eyebrows. “I guess I’ve officially been schooled,” the latter quips. Lauren winks confidently. “Of course you have, Plucky. You really do need to get in touch with your roots. In all seriousness I would study up on the werewolf lineage if I were you because there’s some really interesting and important stuff.” Keelin nods with a bit of amusement.

“Thanks for the advice. I will…definitely get to being a less ignorant werewolf.”

Lauren glances between the couple. “So besides the dive into supernatural reproductive health, any other questions? Maybe you’re just burning with one, Mrs. Mikaelson?” Freya stares at the doctor like a dear in headlights, getting the hint before she flits her eyes to her hand clasped with Keelin’s. “That first child I told you that I lost, my son…” Lauren listens intently with an encouraging nod. “I was under my aunt’s immortality spell then so…does the one I’m under now extend to the baby?”

Keelin rests her head against Freya’s supportively and Lauren reaches out to place a hand on the Viking’s arm. “I can’t really tell just yet, but I can promise you that we’ll find out as soon as possible. Until then you have nothing to worry about okay? You have a strong woman by your side and a supportive family from what I hear. Personally I’m not in the business of letting my patients down so you can count on me too.” Freya offers an appreciative smile and eases back in her seat while squeezing Keelin’s hand.

* * *

 

Freshly cut grass and ice-cold lemonade, pumpkin pie and a chilly autumn breeze. These are some of the things that come to mind as Bridget sits on the sofa while flipping through an old photo album. Her eyes fall on an image of her and her sister riding a beautiful chocolate horse. It was one of the few times their father wasn’t completely wrapped up in work and they had begged him to take a trip to the dude ranch, fully aware that their mother would never agree to it in a million years. Truth be told he was their only means to override the strict rule over their childhood.

The next photograph is one of her perched on her father’s shoulders as she proudly holds a green apple in her hands. As if it was just yesterday she recalls picking the ripe fruit in the woodlands, with his help of course. Granny Smiths were his absolute favorite and knowing that he couldn’t resist the crisp, sour flavor she was determined to obtain the juiciest one she could find. The pure joy existing in his eyes upon her success is one she has never been able to forget. She locked it tightly in the vault reserved for her memories of him.

She kisses two fingers and press them to the photograph before flipping to another page. Her eyes instantly land on one of an elegant gathering, based on the angelic ice sculpture and lavishly dressed individuals in the background. In the foreground she’s perched on her mother’s hip, donning a white and navy blue sailor dress with a matching hat. She appears to be one or two years old, curiously tugging on the pearls around her mother’s neck. Her mother is wearing a white midi sundress, matching cape, and sparkling earrings peeking through her blown out curls. She couldn’t seem more delighted as she holds her toddler securely with a toothy grin. It was certainly a rare sight to see.

Pulling the plastic back Bridget takes the picture out of the album and flips it over. On the backside she easily recognizes her father’s handwritten label. _Bernie’s 32 nd with Bridget, 4/22/92_. As she continues to study the admirable penmanship Rebekah saunters into the room. “Unfortunately there’s a delay on the dresses but I promise it will be worth your while.”

Rebekah reaches Bridget and bends over to kiss her temple before noticing the photo albums scattered across the coffee table. “What’s all this,” she inquires. “I was trying to get myself in the birthday spirit so…I went through these happy memories.” Rebekah lowers herself onto the spot next to Bridget and carefully accepts the photograph being offered to her. As she takes a look at the memento a doting grin settles onto her lips.

“Little you and your awfully glamorous mother.”

“You can tell?”

Ocean eyes peer up from the old item to focus on awaiting earthy ones. “You look just the same. And you have her eyes of course.” Bridget chuckles humorlessly. “What? The soulless eyes of the Devil? Hopefully that’s all I have of hers.” Within a beat she goes quiet as her deadly inheritance confronts her. Rebekah tilts her head knowingly. “Bridget.” Her attempt to comfort the pureblood is met with resistance in the form of a headshake and a fake smile.

“Don’t. It’s okay, really. Can we just go back to the flower overcrowding and the fashionable dresses? Better yet the birthday kisses?”

“What your mother went through won’t happen to you. We will do all that we can to fight it because you deserve a life of peace alright? Neither you nor I will inherit the true sins of our mothers when we desire better, for ourselves and for each other.”

Rebekah offers the photograph to Bridget who reluctantly takes it, flipping it over to check the date again. The original follows the pureblood’s line of vision before reaching out to grab her face, bringing her gaze to her own. “Do you trust me?” She receives a quiet nod in response and examines her girlfriend before resting their foreheads together. “We will have better than that.”

* * *

 

“Jordan, what’s going on?”

Alana looks apprehensive as she’s hastily tugged into her dorm before being stopped at the foot of her bed. “I need you to help me with something,” Jordan replies. “Okay…help you with what exactly?” The hybrid summons a nervous smile. “The spell to locate the souls of my deceased family members,” she answers causing the witch’s mouth to fall open. “Jordan.” A conscious sigh fills the air, recognizing the serious tone. “I don’t know a lot about magic yet, but I know that any spell involving the afterlife is inherently dangerous to the living.”

“Not this one okay? I wouldn’t risk your life or mine if it was. You can trust me.”

“How did you even find this spell? What even is this spell and why do you need me of all people?”

“It’s just an advanced form of a locator spell and I found it in one of Bridget’s books, her mother’s grimoire to be exact. You’re a descendant of Veda which means you’re from a very powerful bloodline. If this has any chance of working I’m gonna need your magic too.”

Alana gazes at Jordan for a moment, visibly conflicted. “I don’t know, Jordan. I don’t think I can do it,” she claims. “Then let me channel you. If anything goes wrong it’s all on me,” the hybrid proposes. Dark eyes widen at her. “What? No way! You’re really serious about this. The type of serious that will drive you to go ahead and do it anyway?”

Jordan confirms the observation with a nod. “Exactly the kind of serious I am Alana. I need to know if my family is at peace, my _parents_. Can’t you understand that?” She tilts her head with pleading eyes. Alana examines her empathetically before sighing in defeat. “Fine. You’re not doing this alone so I’m in.” Jordan anxiously bites her lip and offers an indebted smile.

* * *

 

_“I don’t care if you ever wake her up.”_

_“I had witnesses and video surveillance while you only had an emotional breakdown and a long history of substance abuse. Your Attaché practically begged me not to end your social life.”_

_“Don’t give me all the credit, Miss Vance. I’ve come to realize that your life was violated the night you met Lorraine Easley and learned to become dependent on someone. You should know that in this world it’s dog eat dog, every man for himself. And that is precisely why I am determined to create my own heaven while never knowing hell. Perhaps you should start considering the same.”_

Sharon paces back and forth in a large suite, replaying the words in her head as she slowly loses herself.

**_Lo strolls into the dining room to find Sharon scribbling in her composition notebook. The teenager peers up and quickly shuts the notebook, resting both hands on its cover. Lo comes to a halt while quirking an eyebrow. “Am I intruding on something,” she questions. Sharon shakes her head quickly. “I was just working on an assignment for school,” she reclaims._ **

**_“Well don’t stop on my account. Your studies are important.”_ **

**_“It’s pointless,” Sharon sighs out. “We read this melodramatic poem in English and now I’m supposed to write about what true devotion means to me, but I don’t think I know what that looks like. I’ve never…been in love.” Lo walks over to her, sensing a lack of clarity. “That’s not a requirement for being devoted to someone or something. If you have love and loyalty then you know devotion. The way you hold onto your mother is a prime example.” Sharon bites her lip. “She’s my mom. It’s not like I have a choice when it comes to being there for her,” she retorts._ **

**_“Oh, but you always have a choice. I’m living proof of that.”_ **

**_The pair gaze at each other before Lo licks her lips and lowers onto her knees beside Sharon’s chair. “I’m going to share something very personal with you. It’s a promise wrapped in devotion, one so sacred it is rarely spoken. I don’t take this lightly.” The teenager nods accordingly. “When I was about your age I had a dear friend, my first and only friend for a long time. We loved to read together, abundantly, and she was just light years beyond anyone I’ve ever met. Everything about her was just…poetic.” Lo swallows as light eyes scrutinize her. Then she lifts her chin before clearing her throat._ **

**_“Anyway, she said something to me once and it always stuck with me. There was always you. Life seemed to have no meaning and no sense of direction until we came together, then suddenly it all made imperfect sense. We were always destined to cross paths and to stir something within each other. There was always you for me and me for you, an inescapable bond.”_ **

**_Sharon considers the words for a second. “You were devoted to her,” she concludes softly. Lo offers a melancholy smile. “I’m devoted to you, Sharon. Everything I hope for you, everything I want you to be. You are my greatest priority,” she affirms, pausing. “And so that is what true devotion means to me. Unconditional love and loyalty, always.” Sharon smiles sheepishly, biting her lip._ **

Sharon yells out while grabbing her head and breathing heavily. Her limbs seem to fall apart one by one as she drops to the ground in defeat. It was no use; her life is crumbling all around her and here she is chained to a madman. Moments before, she had searched the practically empty room and even moved on to scour the medicine cabinet for a potential weapon. It was safe to conclude that she just wasn’t meant to win this fight, not if a thousand-year-old psychic had any influence on the matter. Her life is no longer her own and therefore it has finally reached the point of nothingness. Scarily enough, a part of her has waited a long time for this conclusion. The only inkling of heaven she has ever known is tied to Lo who is also her main source of hell.

What a sick twist of fate.

Just moments ago she considered ending it all and drowning in her pain one last time. The jacuzzi tub in the spectacular en suite bathroom looked perfect for the job, but she feared the struggle that would accompany it. _I’m a coward, a coward that should’ve helped myself to pity wine when I had the chance_. Looking around her eyes come across a glass tank positioned on a stand. Out of boredom and curiosity she had previously observed the creature imprisoned inside. A shiny, black spider with a bright red hourglass on its body climbs the sticks decorating the plant-strewn enclosure. Suddenly a thought occurs to her mind as she stares at the tank.

* * *

 

**_Kingdom of Norway, 10 th Century._ **

**_Freya exits her hovel, closing the wooden door behind her before vigilantly scanning her quiet surroundings. Lifting her blue dress she hurries around back to the well. After clearing the area once more she gets down on her knees to remove a loose brick and reaches into the hole to recover a red cloth. She pulls the folds back to feast her eyes on an assortment of bird feathers and grins as she begins petting a soft brown one._ **

**_“Birds remain the most wise and free of all creatures, including us.”_ **

**_Freya jerks away, dropping the feathers as she whirls around to find Veda watching over her. The visitor’s grin diminishes as she takes in the look of pure terror before easing herself to the ground. “Forgive me sweet Freya. Have I frightened you?” The Viking dips her head while exhaling. “I thought you were my aunt. She would not be very pleased with me sneaking off to admire your feathers when chores are to be done.” Veda tilts her head sympathetically and uses two fingers to lift Freya’s chin._ **

**_“And I suspect she would not have you spend a moment’s time with me either,” she poses, earning a regretful nod. “It may not be my place to speak it but there is something you should know. Your aunt does not see you for the true thing you are, Freya. But I have seen it clear as the morning sky yet deep as the ocean in twilight. You are one with the birds in the trees, wise and fueled by the desire to be free. You were not meant to cower in the shadows whilst living your days confined to a hovel.”_ **

**_Veda reaches into her brown cloak and Freya watches intently as she presents a chain with a compass pendant. “I know you feel lost because of this truth so let this be a reminder that freedom is a possibility. It lives inside you. No matter how far you go, or how much the darkness and the suffering threaten to consume you, this charm will protect your boundless spirit.”_ **

**_Freya gazes at the necklace in wonder as the sunlight hits it just right, casting a bright shimmer. With a light chuckle she reaches out to accept the gift. Veda smiles at the girl’s simple joy before petting her golden locks and cradling her cheek. “You must not let your aunt see. I am certain that she will seek to destroy it in her envy, and we will both lose our guide.”_ **

**_“I promise to keep it safe, just as I have with your feathers,” Freya swears, peering into deep eyes. “I know that you will, little bird. Just as I remain a protector you stand the same, ready to march for all that you love. Always remember these words my sweet girl. Despite our blood we are a kindred tribe, in this life and the next,” Veda declares._ **

“Freya, are you okay?”

Freya shakes her head and focuses in on her wife discerning her from across the table. They’re currently enjoying a nice lunch, hidden in a corner of their favorite outdoor café. Realizing her fork is impaling her salad the Viking clears her throat before offering a slightly embarrassed smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry that I zoned out for a bit,” she admits, earning a small grin in return.

“That’s okay. This week has been a journey but you’re doing so well with everything. I just want you to know that no matter what we face going forward we’ll always find a way to get through it. We’re going to protect this baby just like we did with Mikaela. I promise.”

Freya nods while reaching out to grasp Keelin’s hand, relaxing instantly as another hand covers her own before squeezing it. She tilts her head gently. “I know. There’s just something else I have to do first. I have to do it for me and for the future of our daughters.” Keelin tilts her own head while attempting to read her adamant wife.

* * *

 

A white and red steamboat paddles across the Mississippi while visitors scatter along the Riverwalk, patronizing various shops and restaurants. Hayden and Isla walk side by side in silence, both harboring heavy thoughts. “You’re being way too quiet. Given the circumstances I hate to ask but are you okay?” Sighing, Isla provides a reassuring nod. “I’ve laid my aunt to rest, come to grips with my narcissistic mother’s sins, and stepped down from my leadership position. I guess I’m still processing it all but this is my reality now so I might as well get used to it.” Hayden nods attentively and abruptly stops their strolling.

“You know I’ll never hold it against you right, everything you did to protect your mother?”

She earns a cheerless smile in return. “I know you won’t. You’re too good, Hayden Faucher.” The pair gaze at each other until Hayden moves in closer prompting Isla to step back while shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I just…don’t want to drag you down further with me. You don’t deserve that,” the latter affirms. She receives a look of confusion and slight hurt before turning towards the river.

“Isla.”

“How does it feel to be on your own? To be away from family, everything?”

Concerned by the sudden inquiry Hayden saddles up beside Isla. “Never-ending freedom. A chance to do whatever I want, be whoever I want. It’s kinda sad but true,” the bar owner admits. The witch nods accordingly. “I thought so. You’re so confident and fearless in everything you do. Nothing holds you back,” she reclaims. Hayden shakes her head in protest. “Not necessarily true. I wasn’t even brave enough to ask you out. It took me so long to work up the courage and still you beat me to it.” Isla chuckles and finally turns to regard her grinning companion for a moment.

“What if I’m not the catch you’re expecting? What if I’m just a scared little witch stuck in her mother’s shadow? Too scared to ever put what she wants first and too spoiled to even leave her hometown?”

“Well…to answer your first question I’m not expecting anything. But I would _like_ to spend more time with the real person I’ve gotten to know these last few months. As for your other question, I can’t tell you how to navigate being a legacy, but I know a lot about being in a mother’s shadow. At some point you have to push through the fear if you ever want to see what else there is.”

Isla gazes at Hayden before suddenly grabbing the back of her neck to pull her into a kiss. The bar owner rests her hands on the witch’s hips while reciprocating until soft lips slowly depart from her own. Deep, green eyes search dark pools of brown. “Come home with me,” Isla requests simply. Hayden raises her brows in surprise but nods before dipping her head to kiss the witch again.

* * *

 

While perched on the edge of the luxurious jacuzzi tub Sharon inspects a blistering spider bite on her inner forearm. After whispering an incantation she swings her legs over and eases her body into warm water. Within seconds her skin is perspiring, and she begins to recognize the rigidity of her sore muscles. Soon her chest tightens, and she pulls herself under, closing her eyes while denying her lungs air without struggle. What feels like moments later she pops her eyes open to find herself standing in Lo’s parlor room.

“Lo!”

A dark mist settles behind her as the demon appears with a glower. “How could you be _stupid_ enough to commit suicide?” Sharon whips around frantically. “Lo,” she breathes. “Just listen to me okay? When I was here before it was only temporary, my soul desperately wanting to find yours. I was just a projection here but if I finally escape my waking hell I can stay here with you forever.”

A crazed smile graces her lips. “We don’t ever have to be alone again.” Lo shakes her head in opposition. “No, Sharon. Fight your way back while you still can,” she demands agitatedly. Sharon shakes her head. “No. I don’t want that life,” she refuses. Widening her eyes at the eerie calm Lo takes a step back. “Somehow I’m going to save you. Even if it means sacrificing everything.”

She swiftly turns on her heels to leave but Sharon tugs her sweater desperately. “Stop! Why are you doing this? If you love me then why is it so hard to just stay with me?” Lo spins around and grabs onto her face. “Because you’re not your mother,” she affirms, exhaling. “You won’t just give up, lay down, and throw your life away. Not for anything, especially the sociopath that murdered her and your friends. No.” She fiercely shakes her head. “I refuse to let you give up something as precious as your _life_ , Sharon. You think it’s worthless, but I know that you can make it so much more beautiful. We can figure out how to stop your enemies from ruining it if you just trust me. Just this once, I’m begging you to _trust_ me.” Sharon stares at Lo silently.

* * *

 

A full-length mirror is positioned against the wall of Josh’s living room. Bridget stands in front of it, rotating slightly before resting a hand on her abdomen. She examines the strapless, silk evening gown draped on her lean body, quietly admiring the asymmetrical style and the contrast of its navy color against her mocha skin. Rebekah enters the frame, beaming as she snakes her arms around the witch from behind. “You are looking positively breathtaking in blue. With the brilliant Swarovski necklace I’ve picked out, I think this might just be the one,” she proclaims.

Bridget tilts her head and slides her hands over Rebekah’s while the blonde perches her chin on her bare shoulder. “It is beautiful. _Very_ beautiful,” she states, scrutinizing her own features. Rebekah catches a glimpse of somberness in the mirror. “What’s the matter, darling? I can’t accept such a glum look on your face when it’s your special day.” Her girlfriend sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m hating myself for morphing right into my vain mother but god. I am now thirty-two years of age and not exactly thrilled about it. I mean, where did my life go?”

Carefully, Rebekah spins Bridget around to face her. “ _Well_ , you don’t look a day over twenty-five. And forgive me for not granting you sympathy but I’m quite jealous as a girl trapped in eternal adolescence.” Bridget tilts her head while narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Yeah but at least you’re cute as a button. You’re also getting the perks without the curse of acne might I add. Meanwhile I can supposedly pass for…twenty-five if I’m lucky. Really? Not even twenty-three maybe?”

Rebekah grins before cupping her cheeks. “You’re a beautiful, mature woman that I’m quite smitten with. You have absolutely no reason to be self-conscious about the gift of aging. Especially not when it’s treating you very well if I do say so myself,” she reassures. Bridget grins sheepishly. “Okay. You’re just lucky that I can’t resist the accent and the freckles. It’s impossible to shoo off the compliments.” As her girlfriend chuckles she revels in success. “I do look pretty good for someone without access to the fountain of youth huh?”

“Precisely my point.”

“I really hope you’re not lying to me and in reality I look like a senior citizen standing next to jailbait.”

Rebekah gasps, feigning shock as she slaps Bridget on the arm. “I’m just saying it would be ironic and pretty messed up,” the latter snickers. After a few seconds her expression grows more serious. “Thanks for being so sweet to me during my vapid self-loathing.” Rebekah tilts her head, grinning softly. “It’s nothing you haven’t done for me. And I can’t complain when you’ve managed to make me feel beautiful each day,” she confesses. After swimming in affecting eyes she grips the base of Bridget’s skull with both hands before leaning in. “Birthday. Kisses.” She whispers in between two pecks. Bridget giggles softly as she embraces Rebekah, holding her close while settling in the crook of her neck.

* * *

 

Silence and shadows blanket the dorm room as sunlight infiltrates the window blinds. Jasmine stands watch at the door while Jordan and Alana sit cross-legged in a circle of candles. “The coast is clear for now, but you might wanna hurry this up,” she advises, peeking into the hallway. One by one Jordan sets a series of photographs down in front of her, facing Alana’s direction. Daryl, Tanya, Lucy, Richard, Marie, Collins, Kennedy, Daniel, Kelly, and Hayes. “Relax, Jazzy. I didn’t send you to steal from my home just to get you into trouble.” Her best friend shoots her an unamused look. “Very funny, weirdo.” Jordan grabs the dagger beside her and peers up at Jasmine with an optimistic smirk before settling her gaze on the girl positioned a few feet across from her.

“All set?”

Alana nods affirmatively and glances over the piece of notebook paper beside her. “Just to make sure we’re going about this the correct way, Bernadette’s transdimensional locator spell relies on enough blood from the deceased or a close relative…”

“Yeah, I know. I looked over the spell a million times, Alana. My blood, images of the deceased, and the objects to represent the afterlife dimensions. We’re good.”

Jasmine raises her eyebrows awkwardly and Alana regards Jordan before shrugging. “Fine,” the orphan utters. The hybrid sighs before looking down at her hand and slicing her palm. Cringing, she starts down the line, allowing her blood to spill onto each photograph. After the task is completed she sets the dagger on the floor and grabs a brown gauze bandage to wrap around her hand.

“Everyone ready?”

Jordan flits her eyes up to Jasmine before looking at Alana as both accomplices nod accordingly. She extends her hands out to the latter who grasps them carefully. “Let’s do this.” They bow their heads and shut their eyes as they begin to chant in perfect harmony. “Montre-nous l'âme. Montre-nous l'âme.” The flames of the candles sway as blood runs down the photos in thin lines. Jordan and Alana open their eyes in time to see the fluid trailing on the hardwood floor. The lines curve towards the brown feather resting by the orphan’s right knee. Jasmine inches forward in awe.

“Mr. D and Mrs. T,” she breathes.

“Each of your grandparents, your birth father…your aunt and her son,” Alana chimes in.

Three pairs of eyes watch the final blood trail continuing straight ahead, showing no sign of curving towards either object. Alana climbs to her feet and steps off to the side next to Jasmine as the crimson line exits the circle. A blackhole manifests where it ends and unleashes a wild breeze before disappearing completely. The two girls look to Jordan who stares at the wall blankly.

“They’ve all found peace, everyone but Lucy.”

As Jordan rises from the floor Jasmine crosses the distance to stand by her. “Jordan. Lucy hasn’t found peace but she’s not in the Twilight Dimension either. That means she’s not suffering, only floating around aimlessly for a chance to reunite with her family.” Alana comes over to them with a sullen expression. “Maybe…her peace is connected to you, Jordan.” Jasmine nods in agreement. “Yeah. The whole reason she gave you up was to give you a better life. Struggling to find her own way through the darkness while you do the same makes sense. You’re connected,” she claims. “So maybe it’s time to fully embrace your life, Jordan. For yourself and for Lucy.” Jordan finally tears her eyes from the wall to gaze at her companions with impassive features.

* * *

 

Lo and Sharon troop down a puddle-filled sidewalk under dim streetlights. “If there’s anyone who can help it’s Fai. Sure he’s a recluse in the afterlife but in his time he was a powerful witch, a seer. He lived during the Tang Dynasty in China, so he has impressive knowledge regarding supernatural beings and ancient objects,” the former apprises.

“And you’re sure he’d be willing to help us?”

“I’m sure. Unlike the others here he’s unbelievably well-adjusted. Not that he’d have a choice in helping either way.”

Sharon rolls her eyes as Lo brakes in front of a large building and wrenches the door open. “Here we are. Your ticket home awaits.” The demon receives an unenthusiastic look before her companion enters first. Once inside, Sharon stops in awe of the towering shelves filled with countless books. Her guide marches ahead with tunnel vision.

“Dying gave him plenty of time to read and write. His unfinished business in life became his enduring hobby in death.”

They climb a spiral staircase that leads them to an old study. “Fai,” Lo calls out. A short, white-haired man with a goatee appears behind them instantaneously. “Yes,” he questions. Sharon jerks around in surprise but Lo is unaffected as she rotates to greet her fellow demon. “He does that. Fai, this is Sharon. She’s in between life and death so we need your help,” the latter requests.

“What do you wish to know?”

Fai offers his hands to Sharon who instantly arches an eyebrow. “It’s alright,” Lo assures. “Just let him into your mind. It’s how he works.” Sharon looks at her in disbelief. “He’s a demon,” she deadpans. Lo shrugs while lifting her chin. “So am I yet you trust me.” Shaking her head, Sharon steps forward allowing cold hands to cradle her face.

“That’s different,” she retorts as Fai’s eyes shift to a pure onyx color.

“Yes. You desire a way to weaken your enemy. Well, there is one object capable of achieving such a thing. From the gold of his hourglass a rope or chain must be fashioned to render his abilities useless. Or perhaps you might appreciate a more direct route to subduing him. Piercing his fourth chakra with a weapon forged from the gold will ensure that he is completely at your mercy.”

“Fourth chakra,” Sharon queries, frowning.

“His heart, Sharon,” Lo provides.

“Yes, his heart indeed. But beware of his seven songs. Pain is the key to evading his influence and remaining out of his control. If need be, you must carve seven wounds into your flesh and douse them in salt.”

“Um…I’m not sure about all that but thanks for the advice Fai.”

Fai releases Sharon and bows his head as Lo switches over to stand beside him. “Now that she has her information we need to send her back to her physical body before it’s too late,” the latter states. “Wait,” the witch cuts in. “Last time it took you scaring the hell out of me. I’d rather not be traumatized again, thank you.” Lo tilts her head, slightly remorseful.

“There is another way. It is through your own free will and beating heart,” Fai proposes. He shares a glance with the other demon prompting his visitor to look between them. After a moment Lo steps into Sharon’s space. “I need you to fight for me. No matter what, you _fight_ Sharry. We keep pushing forward together, always.” Sharon parts her lips to speak but quietly nods instead. She watches as Lo braces herself before plunging a hand into her chest.

Sharon awakens in Jamie’s arms, gasping for air on the bathroom floor. “Stupid, just stupid of you. Why would you even think to attempt this madness on my watch, in my care? For a pathetic hell-bound escape,” the psychic questions angrily. His prisoner endures a coughing fit while trying to focus on his irritated features. “My intention was to be civil Miss Vance, but I assure you such dangerous schemes won’t be tolerated. Do you understand?” The sharp tip of a blade suddenly rips through his chest, ending his rant. Sharon gapes at the weapon retreating into his body before he slumps over. A brown-skinned woman in a light blue uniform is revealed to be standing over them while holding a large sword. Light brown eyes narrow in confusion.

“Violeta?”

The housekeeper lugs Jamie’s body back into the wall and comes over to Sharon, lowering onto her knees to help the witch sit upright. “Violeta didn’t learn from the best swordsman in Japan,” she remarks, smirking. “As well as in Scotland, _and_ in Italy.” The situation dawns on Sharon instantly. “Lo,” she whispers. The demon confirms her suspicions with a short nod. “I did it, Sharon. I’ve finally made it to earth because of you,” she enthuses. With a disbelieving chuckle Sharon cups Lo’s cheeks, both gazing at each other happily before pulling into a long-awaited hug.

* * *

 

The dungeon gate swings open and in tramps Freya with a neutral expression. Veda turns her head in the blonde’s direction. “Is it wrong of me to presume there’s more torture on your part,” she asks, exhausted. A piece of paper is offered to her and she stares at it before peering up into green eyes. “It’s a sonogram. You were right, I’m about seven weeks along. It’s gonna be another little girl for us in early June,” Freya updates. Veda rearranges herself on the stone supporting her back before marveling at the black and white picture. “It’s not much to see yet but it’s proof she’s there. She’s real and she’s living inside me, like the freedom that I want to know.” The familiar phrase hits the brunette all at once, prompting her to look up at the Viking with a morose smile.

“You wish to reclaim that freedom now by slaying your darkness. This must be my lovely parting gift.”

Freya tilts her head while taking in Veda’s disheveled appearance. “I want her to have better, to know better and that begins with me. I don’t want to be the monster that Dahlia was, the selfish woman that Esther was…” Veda interjects, raising her brows animatedly. “The prideful hellion that I am.” Freya licks her lips, remaining quiet for a moment.

“Why me? Out of all the poor little orphans in the world why did you choose _me_ to latch onto? You were young, beautiful, fiercely powerful.” She shakes her head. “For all I know you could’ve had your own children to care for, just like Dahlia could’ve with a heart that wasn’t so…broken.”

“I have been weakened, humiliated, taken prisoner, and nearly destroyed by those whom I consider to be my child and grandchild. But do _not_ make such a comparison to that miserable wretch!”

Veda shuts her eyes for a moment to gather herself before staring at an engaged Freya. “Those in hell would find salvation before your aunt could discover a maternal bone in her body. And if you must know _why_ I chose you I must admit my deepest sorrow. The reasons for my lack of offspring are not tied to the absence of a heart, a curse on my child bearing nor selfish ambition. They are tied to a man, one that held the world in his hands and still decided it would never be enough.” Green eyes attempt to discern her. “You see, little bird. You are my firstborn because the first in my womb never received that chance. She was ripped from me, much like your son, by her own father’s cruel will.” Veda looks down at the sonogram in her trembling hands.

“After my mother passed on from her illness I was to take over her duties. While my father tended to his herding I kept up our home and raised my siblings, but I was young, not much older than Jordan when a wealthy outsider approached my father. He claimed to have been mesmerized by my exotic beauty and wild spirit, he only wanted my hand in marriage and was willing to let my father name his price for it.”

She peers up at Freya, suddenly expressionless. “And so my treacherous father, unable to refuse such an offer, handed me off in exchange for cattle and silver. He claimed it was to provide for his children however, we were all too devastated to accept that as truth. My betrothed lived far away from our village and that degree of separation was much to bear, especially for my sister Imane, destined to inherit my obligation. Without an ounce of freewill I was married, and shortly after I discovered who I was truly sworn to. He was a three-horned devil. I cooked, cleaned, fulfilled his every desire and still I was never seen as adequate. He was a drunkard, viciously demeaning, and fatally violent some days. Due to the latter I eventually lost our unborn child. In his rage he struck me and then proceeded to do the same unto the baby despite my screams for mercy.”

Visibly unsettled, Freya slowly takes a seat beside Veda. “You never told me this. I know plenty about your family but nothing of him,” she utters, horrified. “What would you have me say? That I was not always the wicked witch you’ve come to know? That I failed to protect the most beautiful creation before repeating history with you, Freya? Haven’t you realized that my story is just an endless pit of loss, despair, and _death_?” Freya shakes her head in opposition.

“Had I known…”

“No. Nothing would have made a difference. We are forever trapped in a cycle of hatred and love, disappointment and foolish hope. I suspect that within time you will see me as a woman no better than your birth mother.”

Freya tilts her head woefully. “If that were true it wouldn’t be so hard to just let you go. For centuries Dahlia did her best to erase you from my history and to destroy my hope.” She nods with emphasis. “She almost succeeded but it didn’t work. I still kept you with me because despite our blood, we will always be a kindred tribe. You told me that.” Veda presents an endeared smile.

“It was indeed my melodramatic truth.”

Freya offers a soft smile before licking her lips. “I can’t kill you, but I can’t just leave you down here like this or set you free.” Veda fixes her gaze to the sonogram once more, bringing the picture to her eyes as the Viking spectates. “Then give me foolish hope in a dream, the sweetest dream I will ever know.” Chestnut eyes meet the emerald ones easily deciphering their request.

* * *

 

Within crisp sheets Isla hovers over Hayden while savoring an amorous kiss. She pulls away to admire the woman beneath her who offers a blissful grin. Sighing, she returns the sweet gesture before rolling onto her back. The couple stare at the ceiling, quietly basking in the fading euphoria before giving into faint laughter. Hayden turns her head to Isla. “What’s so funny,” she asks. The witch maneuvers underneath the sheets to properly face her.

“I don’t know. How about you tell me, Giggles.”

“I’m giggling because _it_ was very unexpected. When I pictured our first time it wasn’t in the form of you dragging me back to your place and taking me to the Olympics.”

“Oh, so you pictured _it_ huh? Kinky and _very_ presumptuous.”

Isla wiggles her brows and Hayden rolls her eyes before turning onto her side. “Maybe. But here we are now and that’s all I care about. The fact that whatever happens next, we have this moment together.” Isla explores the dark eyes reserving care just for her before reaching out to pet wild brown hair down. “Ask me to go to Scotland with you,” she requests.

Hayden raises her eyebrows. “What,” she chirps, flabbergasted. Isla sits up in bed while holding the sheets to her chest. “I don’t want to waste my time living in my mother’s shadow. I want to go somewhere else, do something new. I want to be wherever you are, Hayden. So let’s just do it, me and you. Whatever happens, happens and so forth. I think I’m finally ready for that adventure so just…ask me.” A lazy grin takes up residence on Hayden’s face before she sits up beside the witch. “Okay. Will you come to Scotland with me,” she asks, earning a bright smile. “Sure. I’ll go pack my bags.” Hayden chuckles before pouncing onto Isla, causing her to squeal as she captures her lips. The witch grips the back of the bar owner’s head, exhilarated by newfound freedom.

* * *

 

In the living room, Sharon holds a golden dagger up from the flames of the fireplace. “It’s done,” she notifies, spinning around. “Goodbye mystical hourglass, hello psychic slayer.” Lo moves in close to inspect the newly forged weapon before gazing into bright eyes. “I’m proud of you. Not everyone goes from seeking a one way trip to hell to obtaining an upper hand on a thousand-year-old psychic within hours,” she remarks. Sharon tilts her head showing complete disapproval. “Not funny,” she mutters. “Who’s laughing? I only ever wanted the best for you, Sharon.”

“Is that why you treat everything you’ve ever done like a means to an end? All of it was solely for the grand finale where I live happily ever after without you.” Sharon bites her lip as Lo drops her head. “How would things be if you never met me as that neglected kid in a dark alleyway? Would you…” The demon quickly peers up at the witch while shaking her head.

“Don’t. Not like this, with me in this body and a strong enemy to put down.”

Sharon looks at the shiny dagger in her possession for a moment. “Then you know I can’t let you go,” she states, shaking her own head. “I’ll never stop trying to save you as long as I know there’s still a chance for your salvation.” Lo bathes her in a vulnerable gaze. “As hard as I’ve tried…I can’t let you go either.” Sharon offers a bittersweet smile before her body is flung into a red chair.

“Take a seat and watch the show, Miss Vance. I’ve made it a point to keep hell out of my home.” Lo whirls around to find Jamie striding towards them with a grimace. Her eyes shift to total darkness as she races over to him, but he throws out a hand, lifting her host body midair. “I’m afraid I’ve grown very attached to the help. I’m going to need her body intact.”

With a simple thrust of his hand Jamie expels a black mist from Violeta’s body, watching as it dissipates in the air before the housekeeper plummets. “No! Lo,” Sharon yells out in horror. She struggles in the chair as Jamie turns his attention to her. “You know, this is that terrible dependency I warned you about,” the psychic states, marching over.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to face the unfortunate consequences.”

Sharon glares at him while seething. “You first you self-righteous bastard!” She lifts her right hand as much as she can from the arm of the chair and sends the golden dagger flying into Jamie’s chest. Her enemy stumbles back in shock and clumsily grabs at the handle protruding from his chest before collapsing on the floor. Relinquished from his clutches, Sharon jumps to her feet and cautiously approaches Jamie’s body, breathing wildly as she stands over him.

* * *

 

Down in the basement a solid mahogany casket is illuminated by a formation of torches. Standing over it is Veda, tracing her fingers over a symbol carved into the polished wood. “The Rune of Berkano,” Freya states, appearing beside her. “It represents rebirth and sanctuary. I figured it would suit the place we both envisioned for you.” Veda turns to acknowledge her with a small smile.

“I’m sure it will do wonders for me,” she replies. Freya offers a halfhearted smile before gesturing her head to her right. “Everything is ready. I just need to recite the spell,” she notifies. Veda turns her own head to find Keelin waiting a few feet away, arms folded to her chest. “And is your precious wife here to assist or to merely see me off in the height of her gaiety,” she inquires.

“I’m here for moral support. We’ve had our differences since your resurrection, but I know what you mean to Freya. And for what it’s worth you’ve had an effect on Mikaela and Jordan too. I may not agree with certain _things_ you’ve taught them but…you’ve also shown them some decent qualities, like acceptance. Kinda became void when you tried to harm their family though.”

Veda lifts her chin, summoning an uncommitted smirk. “I appreciate the forthright nature in your parting words. Perhaps something has managed to rub off on you as well. And I do apologize for my heinous actions brought on by such an ill-conceived notion. Truth be told I was always threatened by your closeness to Freya, but I never held any doubt regarding your devotion to her. For that I am grateful, _Keelin_.” Keelin offers a slow nod, stunned by the unexpected acknowledgment. Veda fixes her gaze to Freya who tilts her head, looking back at her with dread.

“I’m ready now,” she announces.

“Are you sure you don’t even want to leave a note behind for Mikaela?”

Veda grins while cupping Freya’s cheeks. “You _are_ my note. All I could ever desire for her is right within you. I’ve caused enough disarray in both your lives, but I do request that you’ll remind her of my boundless affections despite it.” They search each other’s eyes for one last moment to hold onto. “What a bittersweet ending, Freya. My love for you remaining strong yet tainted by circumstance, and yours for me full of vibrance but seeking to drain the other great happiness from your life. I only request one more thing from you before this spell is to be enacted. Remember your grace, little bird. It was always the best part of you, the light I desired to protect and the light that sought to guide me home.”

Freya sheds a single tear, nodding quickly before Veda engulfs her in a warm hug. After they separate the latter waves the blonde off. “Go on now. Tend to your fanciful spell,” she commands, gaining a watery chuckle. Freya moves back towards the parchment on the floor and gets down on her knees. She allows Veda to open the casket before climbing a step stool to slip inside. Once the brunette is resting comfortably she shoots the Viking an encouraging grin before looking straight ahead.

Keelin saddles up beside Freya and places a supportive hand on her shoulder. Green eyes peer up at her appreciatively as her wife grips her hand before bowing her head in concentration. “Vintomas inta grum, Vin novus novasomin. Vintomas inta grum vin callus novasomin.” The small pool of blood on the parchment begins spreading across the Elder Futhark symbolizing Veda's name. Freya opens her eyes to watch alongside Keelin as Veda's head leans against the inside of her coffin.

* * *

 

Rebekah strolls into the living room wearing an ivory, scoop neck cocktail dress. Upon discovering Bridget waiting on the sofa she stops, quirking a brow at her casual attire of a grey t-shirt and blue jeans. “Why aren’t you all dressed? You do recall me making reservations at the best restaurant in town don’t you?” Her eyes briefly flit to the sizable cards laid out on the coffee table.

Bridget smirks while interlocking her fingers on her lap. “I know. And I appreciate you trying to make things special for me, but I told you that I didn’t need all the trouble just for one day. A quiet night indoors with you is more than enough for me.” Rebekah, unable to hide a grin, inches forward dangling her rhinestone clutch bag. “So, are we to play a few rounds of witchy goldfish?”

“Not exactly. This is my birthday gift to you.” Bridget extends her hands to the presentation and Rebekah tilts her head, prompting the witch to elaborate. “You’ve been so excited about my birthday and obsessing over making sure it’s perfect. It made me realize that you’ve never really had one of your own, so I’ve decided, if you want of course, to do a little reading to find out yours. With these cards I’ll be able to determine which zodiac you fall under and as a _bonus_ I’ll be utilizing psionic magic to do it.”

“Well of course I’m up for it but you didn’t have to shift the focus onto me. All of this is for you. We can’t both be so bloody stubborn in this relationship.”

Chuckling, Bridget pats the spot next to her. “I’m not being stubborn. This is all about me and I want to share my special day with you. So come over here before I make you,” she commands, lighthearted. Rebekah obliges by sauntering over to sit beside her as she rearranges herself to face her. “Okay. All you have to do is choose any card on first instinct. No need to overthink it or hesitate because I’ve got you covered, babe.” Blue eyes look to the cards before settling on Bridget. “What if we share a birthday? Are you sure that the threshold of your humility could stand it?”

“Quit stalling. I doubt we’re even the same sign because quite frankly, we’re like yin and yang here.”

“Fine. I choose…this one.”

Rebekah taps on the third card in the bottom row. “This one,” Bridget asks, gaining a nod of confirmation. She flips the card over to reveal a depiction of a ram on the other side. “Hm, an Aries. The love of adventure and the fiery independence makes sense. Clearly the strength and stubbornness too.” She holds the card up in front of the blonde and closes her eyes for a moment, focusing in on her intuition. When she finally opens her eyes she finds herself under an innocent gaze and smiles widely. “Your birthday is April 15th. I guess I’m in trouble come spring huh?” Without warning Rebekah leans in to capture Bridget’s lips. The pureblood reciprocates the wild emotions, allowing her hand to fall to the original’s thigh just before they pull away.

“My last birthday kiss I presume.”

“It was a _thank you_ kiss. Though I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve used your special day to bring me my own.”

“If you really don’t want to waste the reservations then I’ll throw on that fancy dress you bought and suck it up like a champ.”

“Although you’d be quite the good sport, a quiet night indoors with just us two is _more_ than enough for me.”

The couple exchange content grins. “But first, I have one final gift I refuse to let you spoil.” Bridget raises her eyebrows as Rebekah digs into her purse to retrieve a small item wrapped in light pink paper. The blonde presents it to her unsuspecting girlfriend before observing the ritual of tugging on the sheer bow and tearing the gift wrap open to unveil a navy blue passport.

“What do you get the witch that refuses to have everything? Just something straight from her wildest dreams.”

Curious eyes peer up into sincere pools of blue. “I recall that shortly after we sent Freya and Keelin on their honeymoon to the Bahamas you told me that you’ve never been south of Puerto Rico, east of France, or even stepped foot in Africa and Asia. It was your dream to see more once you had the chance, so I promised that one day we’d make it come true. Well now that day can be any you’d like; just say the word and I will take you there. I will take you anywhere you wanna go for however long, should you desire it.”

Bridget gazes at Rebekah as if she has singlehandedly reshaped the entire universe in her honor. “I really wanna just skip to the bed of roses now,” she manages to utter. A starry-eyed Rebekah grins deviously as she rises from the sofa, grabbing Bridget’s hand to pull her up. They giggle in pursuit of their private quarters as the witch drops her passport on the coffee table.

* * *

 

Alex enters his loft and closes the door behind him before striding over to the kitchen area. He drops his keys on the countertop and rubs his forehead, sighing as he begins unbuttoning his blue shirt. Spinning around he catches Sharon sitting on the edge of his bed in lacy, black lingerie. “Long day,” the witch asks. “Sharon. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” Sharon tilts her head. “I didn’t know we were being so formal now.” Alex finishes unbuttoning his shirt while knitting his brows. “I’ve been calling you for nearly a week, but you’ve been M.I.A.”

“Hm, that’s funny considering I don’t have any missed calls from you.” Alex shuts his mouth, gazing at Sharon as she rises from the bed to approach him. “I’ve missed you though. And I’m hurt that you obviously didn’t feel the same. You don’t feel the same,” the latter claims. “You know that’s not true,” the former sighs out. His lover grabs onto his shirt while piercing his eyes.

“Then prove it to me. Prove that you actually care.”

After scrutinizing the amber eyes haunting his own Alex suddenly hoists Sharon up. He allows her to secure her legs around his waist before moving towards the bed. She grips his neck and harshly claims his lips, only letting go when he gently lies her down. “I love you, Sharon.” The witch peers up at the wolf and coaxes him into a tender kiss before flipping their positions to straddle him.

Sitting upright, she presses two palms to his chest. “I’m so glad you said that because now I can finally confirm how much of a no-good liar you are.” Alex freezes as Sharon summons heavy chains around his wrists and ankles. As the witch gets up her distressed lover immediately begins struggling. “What are you doing,” he questions frantically.

“I’m doing exactly what you did to me but with something a little extra. I’ve linked myself to the Sandman which currently makes me your worst nightmare. It’s only temporary so we better get to it.”

Sharon extends her hand out in a claw-like motion and Alex’s bones begin snapping in response. “Sharon, please! We can work this out! It was all a game with that monster! I was just playing my part so stop this,” the wolf shouts. “Relax, Alex. I won’t be turning you into a complete beast. I’ll just let you suffer through the growing pains until it’s time to haul your ass to prison.”

“I really did start to care about you, Sharon.”

“Caring about anything other than your empire is impossible for you. But it doesn’t matter,” Sharon states, shaking her head. “I never loved you either. I only loved what you could do for me, dulling some of my pain. Now that’s all you’ll ever know, Alex. My pain.” Breathing rapidly, Alex stares at her until another one of his bones are fractured. Sharon stands there cold and expressionless, watching as her enemy writhes in continuous agony.

* * *

 

Clad in loose tank tops, cotton shorts, and fuzzy plush socks, Rebekah and Bridget lounge on the sofa while watching a movie. Bridget rests in between Rebekah’s legs, drawing circles into the vampire’s thigh and reveling in the feel of nails gently scraping her scalp. They laugh at some quirky dialogue just before the doorbell rings. Bridget cranes her neck to look at Rebekah in disbelief.

“Another surprise? I thought I already got my last one,” she states, earning a sly smirk. “From _me_ , love. Apparently I’m not the only one rejoicing over your existence,” Rebekah retorts. Her words incite a skeptical look from her significant other who gets up to cross the short distance to the front door. The locks are disengaged, and the knob is twist open to reveal a beaming family of four.

“Happy Birthday!”

Bridget covers her mouth before chuckling in excitement. “Guys? What the…okay just come in.” The visitors join in on the laughter as she gestures for them to enter quickly. Mikaela is the first to step inside, impatiently displaying an edible arrangement of candy and chocolate-covered fruit. “I picked it out just for you, Auntie Bridget. Do you like it?” Bridget smiles graciously.

“I love it. Thank you, sweets.”

She bends down to kiss Mikaela’s forehead. “Auntie Bex will help you stash it in the fridge for me okay?” The child nods enthusiastically. “Okay,” she chirps before darting over to Rebekah. Jordan steps forward offering a large roll of paper tied with a red ribbon. “I wanted to say thank you for opening your magic collection up to me but also your arms. I got pretty lucky with the five-for-one deal on aunts.” The ever-grateful Bridget tugs the ribbon and opens the paper up to discover impressive work. It’s a pencil drawing of herself in a vast library, hovering over a book while Keelin, Freya, Rebekah, and Hayley gather around. Each person has a speech balloon floating above their heads.

 _I’m telling you that this is the most effective spell for puppies_.

 _Are you sure, B? I’m kind of the expert here and it looks a little…strange_.

_I’m not convinced either but I’m kind of the actual expert here, Keelin._

_Well only if we’re talking about a bloody Schnauzer_. _Sometimes-willful but ever-reliable is certainly your spirit animal, Freya_.

_Um guys? Are we really going to manufacture a puppy with magic and housebreak it in one day just because Rebekah forgot to call a pet store?_

“I know it’s silly and all, but I thought you’d might appreciate the random humor.”

With a chuckle Bridget peers up at Jordan and opens her arms to receive a warm hug. “Thank you, Mini. The random humor is perfect and I’m proud to be your honorary aunt any day.” After they separate the teenager catches a glimpse of the mounted flat screen behind the pureblood. “You guys are watching Heathers,” she queries. Brown eyes narrow at her dubiously.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“It’s only a late ‘80s classic and precursor to everything from Jawbreaker to Mean Girls.”

Bridget gives Jordan a stupefied look before patting her cheek. “Bless your beautiful old soul. Pop a squat, there’s plenty of popcorn,” the former offers. The latter gladly hastens over to the sofa and begins helping herself while Keelin steps up presenting a glass vase of roses. “An actual arrangement that won’t give you a sugar rush.” Bridget leans in to place a sweet kiss on her cheek.

“After tonight, roses are in fact my favorite. Thanks babe,” she remarks, pulling away. “We have a lot to catch up on, but I’ll let you guys talk first. It’s long overdue.” Keelin pats Bridget’s cheek affectionately before glancing at Freya and carrying the flowers towards the kitchen. Now alone, the two witches both knit their fingers together while staring at each other awkwardly.

“Freya.”

Freya quickly shakes her head before stepping forward to grasp Bridget’s hands. “No. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my anger and resentment, my fear. Other than Keelin you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. I know that you’re always there for me but I just…didn’t know how to handle the situation. And since you were conveniently keeping a big secret from me I thought…I could be justified in taking all my issues out on you, along with whoever else. But I was wrong Bridget because you _are_ my family. That’s forever and you not being a part of my life just feels wrong, especially when I need you right now.” Bridget breaks out into a relieved smile and wastes no time bringing Freya into her arms. They hold on for a moment before laughing.

“I shouldn’t have kept things from you. It was against girl code, but I was too scared to lose you over it. I’m sorry for being selfish and a bit deceptive.”

Freya tilts her head with understanding. “I’ve noticed Rebekah’s happiness growing by the second since she’s been here, yours too. Just because I’ve been wrapped up in my own problems doesn’t mean I’ve been completely blind to the world.” She gestures over to Rebekah laughing in the kitchen with Keelin and Mikaela. “If my sister has any chance of finally attaining true love it’s with you, Bridget. I believe she already has.” Bridget tilts her head as she reads the various emotions swimming within emerald eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did something else happen today? Keelin texted me about the baby, or should I say little Bridget Jr.” Freya chuckles a bit, biting her lip. “After the appointment I had a lot of time to think,” she starts, briefly looking down at their joined hands.

“I had to face some of my oldest wounds.”

“Veda.”

“I couldn’t kill her, and I couldn’t set her free so…she proposed another way, casting a spell to place her in a deep sleep. She’s linked to my lifeforce.”

Bridget supplies an empathetic nod. “Then you’ll have plenty of time to figure things out. I didn’t get that chance with my perpetual crisis of a mother so at least you will with yours.” She offers a small smile and gives Freya’s hand a supportive squeeze. As they gaze at each other quietly a subtle knock diverts their attention to Hayden occupying the doorway while holding a wine bottle.

“Hey. Am I late to the party?”

“Not at all. I assume you’ve secretly talked to Rebekah too.”

“I hope you didn’t think that ancient scrying set was all there was in store for you. We need some quality time together while I’m still here.”

“Yeah, yeah. We have plenty of time for that.”

Hayden attempts to ease her growing smile as she properly enters the home. “So…I’m actually going to Scotland tomorrow and Isla is coming with me,” she discloses. Bridget and Freya raise their eyebrows simultaneously. “Well talk about a celebration. Let’s open up that bottle now. What,” the former quips, instigating a laugh from the bar owner. “Yeah. I guess today changed a lot of perspective for us. Look at you guys.” Perceptive eyes glance between the two witches. “Hayden,” Freya speaks up. “About before, I know I had my chance to apologize when I retracted the banishment vote…but I’m sorry for treating you that way. Everything you said was true, so I really do hope you find what you’re looking for with Isla.” Hayden smiles at the unexpected kindness.

“Apology accepted. I haven’t forgotten how you work, Freya. It’s water under the bridge now.”

“This is crazy but I’m starting to consider this the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” Bridget remarks, tilting her head in thought. “I see that all my hard work has paid off then. Now come on so we can properly celebrate the night with family,” Rebekah commands from the kitchen. Bridget, Freya, and Hayden look across the room to find Keelin and Rebekah grinning cheerfully.


	13. Tempus Fugit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mikaelson siblings bring in another new year separately while reflecting on the state of their respective lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So here we are. This chapter is pretty light and hopeful to ease into the drama haha. I wanted to show a bit of what the rest of the siblings have been like while Freelin have built their own little family. You don't know how proud I am of myself for getting through writing so much Elijah *phew* lol. It's all for a good cause though. So anyway I hope I did a decent job on this one. Enjoy!
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Lorne - Navigate: Freya prepares for her family dinner.
> 
> 2) Tom Morello - Every Step That I Take: Klaus stalks a tourist.
> 
> 3) Bayonne - Drastic Measures: Kol and Davina bake cookies; Rebekah and Bridget arrive at the penthouse.
> 
> 4) Rag'n'Bone Man - Human: Klaus takes over a bar.
> 
> 5) Chelsea Jade - Life Of The Party: Rebekah and Bridget celebrate and talk about family.
> 
> 6) Message To Bears - At A Glance: Freya's family highlights of the year/FLASHBACK of Freya and Keelin giving Jordan and Mikaela the pregnancy news.
> 
> 7) Why Mona - Go Your Own Way: Kol finds Davina pouting and comforts her.
> 
> 8) Sleeping At Last - You Wouldn't Like Me: Elijah and Lilith take a walk; Marcel talks to Klaus about his reckless behavior; Rebekah and Bridget burn wishes before reflecting on the rooftop.
> 
> 9) Angelo De Augustine - Time: Kol and Davina cuddle; Mikaelson Midnight Montage.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

**NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA. 8:00 PM.**

The courtyard is elegantly but subtly decorated with golden hanging lights and red carnation arrangements. An ethereal midtempo song fills the space courtesy of Jordan’s playlist. Freya is hovering over the dining table in a simple black dress with long sleeves. She dutifully inspects the setup of red plates, polished silverware, wine glasses, ivory candles, and three carnation centerpieces. While anxiously biting her pointer finger she lifts a fork only to place it back down in its rightful spot. Soon Mikaela appears by her side wearing a sleeveless wine colored dress and a sparkling _happy new year_ tiara. “Mama, Mama,” she exclaims urgently. Freya turns to the child, placing her visible baby bump on full display. “Yes, baby girl,” she answers, providing her attention.

“Are Hope and Auntie Hayley here yet?”

“Almost. Why don’t you go help Jordan and Mommy in the kitchen until then huh?”

Mikaela nods accordingly. “Okay. Be right back!” She hurries away and Freya sighs while holding her belly. Keelin approaches, dressed in black sleeveless and formfitting attire, to set a large tray of roasted chicken on the table before turning to her wife. “Hey, Mama. Is everything alright,” she asks. Freya presents a warm smile and nods in response.

“Yeah. Just making sure that everything’s perfect.”

Keelin tilts her head with a perceptive expression. “You know that’s not necessary.” Freya sighs while gazing into deep brown eyes. “I know you keep telling me that tonight is about family and appreciating another year we’ve survived, but all I can think about is yet another year we’ve been apart,” she admits, tilting her head sullenly. “It wasn’t supposed to last this long, Keelin.”

Keelin steps into Freya’s dispirited bubble and cradles her face. “I know, baby. But like we say every year, this is just one more step closer to finding a way to break the curse. Elijah’s been all over Europe trying to protect your siblings and I’m sure that Bridget will tell us if she comes across anything that could help. It’s only a matter of time before we figure it all out. We’re going to beat this okay? Together, always and forever.” Freya licks her lips before nodding and grasps Keelin’s forearm as she’s pulled into a tender kiss. After separating Keelin smiles while gently cradling Freya’s belly. “And of course one for my other baby.” She lowers her head to provide a sweet kiss there, inciting a loving grin from her wife.

“God, so much cuteness already. Can we settle in first?”

Hayley and Hope come up to the couple, the former donning a black floral dress with sheer sleeves while the latter appears mature in a midnight blue maxi dress. Wide smiles are plastered on their faces as two pairs of eyes detect their presence. “Sorry. It’s par for the course in our home,” Keelin remarks. Hayley allows Hope to reach the pair first. “Aunt Keelin, Aunt Freya.” The tribrid greets the werewolf with a hug before getting a once-over. Her flowing auburn hair, light makeup, exceptional height and grace for her age. Even her baby blue eyes carry a sense of percipience.

“You’re growing up pretty fast, kid.”

“Tell that to Mom.”

“Hey. Not tonight, Hope.”

With a roll of her eyes Hope moves to hug Freya, thankful that her back is to Hayley as she receives an affectionate squeeze from her aunt. “You look beautiful, Aunt Freya.” After they pull away Freya smiles appreciatively and brushes stray locks from Hope’s face. “Thank you, sweetie. So do you,” she responds. Hayley and Keelin quickly embrace before the hybrid moves on to Freya. As they separate green eyes take in the Viking’s growing form.

“I see the pregnancy glow is coming in nicely. How far along are you now?”

“Eighteen weeks and counting. I’m not sure that glow you’re talking about would be here without Keelin spoiling me.”

Hayley and Keelin grin at Freya. “Hope! Auntie Hayley! You’re here,” Mikaela chimes, scurrying over to them excitedly. The group chuckles as Hope engulfs her little cousin in a big hug. “I’m happy to see you too, Mikaela.” Jordan carries a basket of bread rolls over to the table and looks at everyone with a small smile. She’s wearing a black and white striped midi dress with a long bead necklace.

Keelin grabs her by the shoulders to turn her towards their guests. “Jordan, this is Hope,” she introduces. “My snarky teenaged daughter,” Hayley adds. Jordan offers a polite wave. “Hi,” she acknowledges. “Hi,” Hope responds, beaming. “I think you two might hit it off. So, is everyone ready to eat? I tried out some old family recipes,” Keelin speaks up. Everyone nods affirmatively as they eagerly scatter to find a seat.

* * *

 

 **COLOGNE, GERMANY.** **3:00 AM.**

Soft jazz music fills the cozy atmosphere of an empty restaurant. Elijah sits at a table for two near a crackling fireplace as his waiter stands patiently. He lifts an arm and flicks his wrist to check his Rolex as the clacking of high heels draw closer. “Have I kept you waiting,” a sultry voice inquires. Elijah lowers his arm to peer up at a statuesque woman regarding him through close-set eyes. She slightly raises her refined brows and he’s instantly struck by her effortless beauty. Her features are dramatic: rich brown skin, a high forehead, a broad nose, luscious lips, a jaw sculpted to perfection, and a sylphlike body complimented by a sleek charcoal dress. Her raven hair is slicked back into a tight bun with a light sheen to it.

A few seconds pass before Elijah composes himself enough to stand up politely. “Of course not. Please join me, Ms. Köhler,” he insists, gesturing to the chair across from him. The stranger sits down with an amused grin. “Ms. Vogel, although I’d prefer you to call me Lilith. I’m afraid that Mr. Köhler had second thoughts about sending his only daughter to finalize negotiations with the honorable Mikaelson. Considering it’s over a moonlit meal, he’d might not see her again.” Elijah half smirks while seating himself. “Well, I am a man of persuasion when the occasion calls for it.”

“Seems we have something in common. I tend not to take no for an answer which leads me to believe I was sent _just_ for you.”

Elijah regards Lilith before clearing his throat. “Forgive me but I must ask. What is your relation to the Lord Mayor? He hasn’t mentioned you in previous conversations,” he states. “Hm, what a layered question. One might say I’m a bit of an advisor, an influencer of sorts. However, I see myself as quite the savior when it comes to feeding his desires,” the woman replies. Elijah stares at her intently causing her to briefly look down before artfully batting her eyelashes.

“For business of course. Despite his voracious appetite you can be sure that our relationship is strictly procedural.”

Elijah shakes his head. “I hadn’t the assumption…” Lilith reaches out to grab his hand with a chuckle. “Relax. It was only a lighthearted joke to break the ice. Well, one with truth to it anyway,” she reassures, grinning.

“Then I do happen to wonder how ever could his pride bear the mere thought of the matter. Such temptation right before him and yet still too far out of his reach. What an unusual concept to endure for a man of his stature.”

“Well perhaps it’s time he learns a thing or two from a perfect gentleman,” Lilith retorts, tilting her head. “So, Elijah Mikaelson. What is it that you propose in exchange for my invariable loyalty?” Elijah holds the woman’s enchanting gaze, utterly charmed and fixated on her. “I suppose we’ll start there and see where the night takes us,” he purports.

* * *

 

**SOUTH BEACH MIAMI, FLORIDA. 9:00 PM.**

A trio of women come stumbling out of a neon red nightclub. “Oh my god I’m so wasted. What are we gonna do now,” the redhead asks. “We’re on Ocean Drive baby! We can do whatever we want. Woo,” the blonde in the middle cheers. They all laugh boisterously as they totter down the strip. “You’re so right. Let’s hit another bar,” the first woman suggests.

“Guys, I think I should just grab something to eat now,” the brunette on the end states. “Sure,” the redhead agrees. “You can chow down on a burger when we get to the bar.” The brunette breaks away from their linked arms as her friends continue on. “No thanks. I’d rather not wake up dead in an alley tomorrow. Keep your locations on!” The two women wave her off.

“Bye,” they slur obnoxiously.

Shaking her head the brunette spins around and begins heading back in the direction they came from. She spots a vintage diner-styled restaurant and smiles until she crashes into another body. After gathering herself from the impact she peers up into sapphire eyes dissecting her. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Klaus supplies her with a dimpled smirk.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I see you have your eye on a charming little establishment known for fine cuisine.”

The brunette hugs her body while offering an uncertain smile. “Uh…yeah well it’s not really fancy. Just the home of waffle fries and unlimited milkshakes,” she retorts. Klaus steps forward, lifting a finger. “Ah, an irresistible late night snack. What a coincidence, I’ve been in search of my most favorite indulgence as well. Disorderly tourists.” Before the woman can respond the hybrid pierces her eyes. “Don’t be frightened, love. You simply wish to assist me in fulfilling my _very_ particular need.” The newly entranced brunette confirms the statement with a slow nod. “Wonderful. Now let’s get right to it shall we?” As the woman turns on her heels Klaus follows with a smug grin and his arms behind his back.

* * *

 

 **SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.** **6:00 PM.**

Davina pulls a silver tray out of the oven and narrows her eyes at the single row of four chocolate chip cookies. With a huff she sets it on top of the stove before slipping her red oven mitts off. “Kol Mikaelson!” In seconds she feels strong arms circling her waist and spins around to look at Kol’s cheery expression. “Yes, Davina Claire-Mikaelson?” His wife tilts her head with displeasure.

“Have you been eating all the cookie dough again? I specifically told you that I needed a dozen but there’s not even half of that here. What am I supposed to do with four cookies?”

Kol reaches behind Davina to grab one cookie before taking a bite. “Make that three cookies,” he mutters. “Kol, I’m so serious right now,” the witch scolds. “Darling, you know how hard it is for me to resist such gooey perfection. Besides, your friends won’t be around here until later on. We can always make a fresh batch,” the original reclaims.

Davina snorts while snatching the half eaten cookie from Kol. “This was for me and my stress eating. You owe it to me to bake the two dozen batch for my friends,” she declares, resolute. Her husband grins widely as he watches her nibbling on the cookie.

“As you wish.”

* * *

 

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK. 9:00 PM.**

Rebekah and Bridget barge into the penthouse holding their luggage while still committing to their freshly spurred on rendezvous. They finally drop their bags on the floor and separate only to shrug out of their peacoats. Quickly, Bridget cups Rebekah’s cheeks to hungrily attack her soft lips as the blonde grabs her hips securely. After a moment Rebekah tugs on the bottom of Bridget’s navy blue sweater and pulls it over her head. She tosses the garment without looking and eagerly guides Bridget backwards to the sofa, causing them to collapse on the cushions. Now straddling the witch she tugs her own black sweater over her head and discards it before descending into a wistful kiss. She releases a low moan as expert hands glide up her exposed back slowly.

“Maybe we should actually try to keep our hands to ourselves for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that? There’s a reason we haven’t sworn ourselves into a convent.”

Rebekah plants firm kisses across Bridget’s jawline before attaching her lips to her neck. “Well, we could put something nice together and celebrate the new year. Rebekah Mikaelson style,” the latter propositions, looking up. Rebekah finally halts their activities to establish eye contact. “What did you have in mind,” she asks, tilting her head. Bridget sits up with an entertained grin.

“Okay maybe a _mashup_ of both our traditions just to be safe.”

“Consider me Jolly Bex in the holiday spirit,” Rebekah declares, grinning widely.

* * *

 

Chattering and laughter fuels the dinner table as all eyes stay on Hope. “It took him like an hour to realize I was cloaking his things so that only I could see them. He really thought he was losing it.” Hayley looks on, visibly unimpressed. “Are you gonna share the part where you almost got suspended for unauthorized use of magic and tampering,” she questions. Hope leisurely takes a sip of her drink. “Yeah, I was just getting to that actually. So, I almost got suspended for unauthorized use of magic and tampering but…I _didn’t_. He was just a dumb jerk that deserved it. Case closed.”

“Hope.”

“Sorry for telling that story but everyone needs a good laugh once in a while.”

Hope settles her eyes on Jordan who’s eating mashed potatoes right across from her. “Have you ever done any school pranks, Jordan?” The older girl sets her spoon down on her plate. “Um, no not really. I guess pranks aren’t my thing and studying healing took up too much time,” she provides. “Well trust me. You’d find the time at boarding school,” Hope reclaims.

“Dumb jerk is a universal language so maybe.”

Hope offers a small grin inciting Jordan to supply one in return. “I think revenge is exactly what we decided to avoid with homeschooling,” Keelin remarks, sipping her wine. “For now it’s been harmless but one step in the wrong direction could convince me to consider that option,” Hayley retorts, raising her eyebrows. Hope lights up and turns her head towards her mother.

“Great. I always wanted to learn more about my witch side from Aunt Freya. I’m missing out on all the family secrets she’s giving to Mikaela and Jordan.”

“Uh, no _powerful_ family secrets here just…essential learning. You know, reading and writing.”

Wide blue eyes meet weary green ones. “Don’t be modest, Aunt Freya. Have you been teaching them to read ancient texts or to create old Nordic runes? If so, that’s exactly what I’d rather be doing with my time,” Hope states as a matter of fact. Freya gives her a doubtful look. “Well technically ancient texts are more of Bridget’s thing and for now I think I’m the only Mikaelson witch qualified for the runes, Hope.”

“Your aunt is a great resource for you to take advantage of but you’re not missing out on anything. You have a life and friends in Mystic Falls.”

Hope tilts her head with an incredulous expression. “But my _family_ is here, growing and changing without me. I don’t see why I can’t just stay and learn from Aunt Freya like I was supposed to, at least for a year. You’re always talking about compromise, Mom.” Hayley tilts her head, sighing. “Hope, we’ve talked about this a lot. We have a plan remember,” she poses as a reminder.

“Yeah, a plan I’m now old enough to question. I just want to be a part of something important, something that matters to me.”

Silence falls over the dinner table as everyone stares at the agitated teenager. “Hope. You know that’s not an option with your Aunt Rebekah’s life being here. Can we please talk about this after dinner,” Hayley requests firmly. Hope folds her arms before flopping back in her chair with a shrug. “Fine,” she utters. Her mother observes her as the rest of her family continues eating awkwardly.

* * *

 

“I can’t tell if you’re spoiling me with an ulterior motive or what.”

A thoroughly satisfied Lilith lounges back in her chair now positioned right next to Elijah’s. “I thought you’d might enjoy the Bordeaux. However, I can assure you my intentions are pure,” the latter proclaims, smirking with pleasure. The former tilts her head while summoning a tipsy grin. “What a shame for me then.” She leans forward, locking her eyes onto glossy brown orbs.

“Can I be perfectly honest with you?”

“I would have it no other way.”

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to impress me or the mayor’s daughter for that matter. We all know about the original vampire ruling Europe and it would’ve been foolish to turn down any sort of an alliance with such a…mysterious figure.”

“I’m not so certain that I’ve maintained an air of intrigue. These last few years I have only been concerned with the survival of my family, and anyone threatening that has been quickly disposed of. A simple concept isn’t it?”

Lilith reaches out to toy with Elijah’s tie causing him to blink while gazing at her. “Yes, it is. It’s clear to see how much you love them. I admire that, Elijah. Taking on the burden of being the protector destined to walk alone in the shadows of duty. That’s why I want to help you.” She relinquishes his tie to carefully rest her hand on his chest.

“Maybe we can even help each other in the long run. Everything I have to offer is yours.”

Elijah tilts his head while parting his lips. “Is that so,” he questions, gaining a simple nod in response. “Mhm. You might have charmed me with this meeting but I’m still a businesswoman in my own right. I have one final request before sealing the deal.” Elijah grabs onto the hand planted to his chest. “Indeed you do. Tell me about this…imperative solicitation of yours.” Lilith smirks, reveling in the strict attention on her. “I would like you to take a walk on my turf, under the moonlight and in the streets of Cologne. I’m not quite convinced that the suit and tie is all you have to offer, Elijah. There’s so much more to you.” Elijah attempts to read between the lines.

* * *

 

At a dimly-lit bar Klaus sits in a booth with one arm around a dark-haired man’s shoulders. He feeds from a wrist offered to him by a blonde woman and pulls back with a dramatic sigh. Finally satisfied, he reclines in his seat before rolling his head over to the uneasy man beside him. “I know. You’re perplexed by my barbaric appetite. Never be so easily fooled, mate. Despite my timeless charm I have spent the last four years hunting elk and defending valuable shrubbery from bighorn sheep. You see I’ve had a long history with witches, and they have this ongoing thing about nature and…never you mind that. Just know that I’ve become _quite_ the triumphant mountaineer, undeterred by the fierce creatures who walk this earth.” Klaus abruptly raises a finger.

“Oh wait, that reminds me. I’ve yet to tell you about the real game of the _Chateau_ Lake Louise. Are you ready for it?”

The brown-haired man nods accordingly, instigating Klaus’s crooked grin. “Annoyingly cheerful guests,” the hybrid reveals, raising his brows cartoonishly. “Sure I took to indulging in edifying literature, releasing my frustrations through art, and exploring the land with a fondness akin to the lesser part of my childhood. _But_ …nothing seems to galvanize me more than a never-ending buffet of wide-eyed fools. We all are animals are we not? I just so happen to embrace my God-given talents.”

Klaus grabs the bottle in front of him by the neck and takes a messy swig before sighing in relief. He notices the man staring at him uncomfortably and holds his gaze before snapping his fingers. “That’s right. I haven’t given you a turn to speak yet. Well, go on then. Provoke my innermost thoughts with your insightful input.” He leans in slightly to utilize his compulsion.

“You actually liked living in Canada,” the man queries.

“Of course! The summers are quite beautiful there.”

Marcel tramps into the bar as the distinguishable smell of blood infiltrates his senses. Scanning the area he finds the patrons going about life as normal with blood-stained necks. Shaking his head he continues on to approach Klaus at the booth. “Alright, I think you’ve had enough for one night.” Glazed blue eyes redirect from the brown-haired man to Marcel.

“On the contrary, I’m feeling rather unsatisfied now Marcellus. The fun has just begun and it’s about time you popped in to have at some cheap thrills.” Marcel tilts his head, uninterested in the games. “You’re drunk, alone, and pulling an old Klaus move on New Years Eve. If we’re gonna have at something it won’t be a cheap thrill.” Klaus blinks and purses his lips while lifting his chin.

* * *

 

Poppy music blasts throughout the extravagant penthouse, echoing in every room. Hovering over a tray of baked goods, Bridget drizzles icing onto a cinnamon roll and begins spreading it with the back of a spoon. Rebekah comes swaying into the kitchen while sipping from a glass of wine. “Mm, I’m finding myself tragically bored without my favorite dance partner out here to keep me company.” Her girlfriend continues focusing on the task at hand. “Just a moment and…” She picks the finished pastry up and spins around from the counter to present it with a proud smile.

“Voila! An old, homemade recipe of mine from scratch. I’ve never shared this with anyone since it was my guilty pleasure in college. That makes you the first to try them.”

Leaning forward, Rebekah sets her glass down on the countertop. “Sharing your dirty little secret with me now? I’m honored to be the first,” she remarks, grinning. Bridget excitedly brings the desert to the vampire’s mouth. “Careful, it’s still a little hot,” she cautions. As soon as Rebekah sinks her teeth into the sweet pastry her taste buds explode with pleasure inciting a moan.

Bridget withdraws the rest of the cinnamon roll and bites her lip at the sure sign of success. Despite it, she eagerly anticipates a review of her work. “So…are you gonna tell me how you like it?” She chuckles when Rebekah wags a finger while savoring the dessert. “That will require the use of actual words, babe.”

The blonde grabs her glass of wine and proceeds to wash the food down before placing it on the counter once more. “That recipe could singlehandedly end wars across continents. If I was ignorant to your status as a witch I would suggest you were a bloody confectionary magician.” Bridget raises her eyebrows playfully before bringing the half eaten cinnamon roll to her own mouth.

“Well damn. And to think I’ve spent years hiding it away from the world in shame,” she quips.

“Humor me. What could possibly be so shameful about such tasty treats?”

Bridget grabs a towel to wipe off her hands. “Um…the fact that those things could probably induce cardiac arrest and I am _very_ capable of eating a whole supply on my own,” she retorts animatedly. Rebekah shrugs with a nonchalant hum. “Well, food is to be savored just as music is to be enjoyed.” She steps forward and drapes her arms over Bridget’s shoulders, smoothly swaying them to the song playing on the speakers. “While relationships are meant to be _experienced_ …and appreciated thoroughly.”

They share an inspired gaze before smiling into a tender kiss and pulling back with a quick peck. “So how about that romantic bubble bath?” Bridget tilts her head before releasing a conflicted sigh. “Of course I’m down to let you get me champagne drunk while soaking in a nice, hot tub. But we both know that something is missing here don’t we?” Rebekah’s smile diminishes and her sullen eyes flit downward before peering up into involved ones. “That little tradition hasn’t held up very nicely in case you haven’t noticed. And it just wouldn’t feel the same without my brothers.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. Building a nice bonfire and tossing in wishes with your family is perfect but…tonight it’s all about you and what _you_ want.”

“Sure but it was always Kol’s favorite and that leads me to Klaus’s loathing…which brings me to Elijah’s never-failing neutrality. And then there’s Freya who I’m not sure has ever actively participated but nonetheless is included.”

“Rebekah.”

Rebekah exhales deeply, shaking her head. “I’m the spoiled little sister that never had to worry about living without her unbearable siblings. As much as I tend to get away it’s obvious they’re the part of me that reminds me who I am, Bridget,” she attests. “I know,” Bridget affirms. “The last six years haven’t been the easiest for you or your family but listen to me. I’m the formerly sheltered trust fund baby that was raised by helicopter parents for eighteen years of my life. I understand how meaningful a strong bond is. And what I’ve learned from being a part of this family, from being a part of _your_ family for as long as I have is that…a connection like the one the Mikaelsons have is hard to break.” She shakes her head.

“I don’t believe it’s forever and giving up hope is not an option. You have so much to look back on and an endless amount to look forward to with the people who love you. Holding onto tradition isn’t hopeless okay?” Rebekah studies Bridget while caressing the nape of her neck. A few seconds pass as she considers the younger woman’s words before giving in with a hesitant nod.

* * *

 

In the courtyard, the family unwinds while drinking sparkling cider. On one couch Mikaela occupies Keelin’s lap as Freya sits snug beside them. On the opposite couch Hope is perched between Hayley and Jordan. “If everyone is up to it…I was thinking we could go around and share our highlights of the year. I’m afraid boarding school pranks don’t count.” Hope lightly rolls her eyes, shaking her head at her aunt as the other adults laugh. “I’ll go first,” Jordan speaks up, glancing around. Freya, Keelin, and Hayley smile at her as she bows her head in thought for a moment.

“Well…this year was the hardest one to get through in my life, but it was also the most hopeful one. I found out about my family. I come from two bloodlines of fearless witches and tough werewolves. I got two aunts who protected me and took me in. I know that they would do anything for me. And I also got a cousin, well two cousins now.” Jordan bites her lip as Freya and Keelin admire her. “And a one of a kind extended family. I never really had that growing up so for me…that was my highlight of the year.”

“That’s beautiful, sweetie. It was mine too,” Keelin agrees, earning a small smile.

“I know I just met Jordan and I’ve been wrapped up in school, but you guys don’t know how cool it was to find out that me and Mikaela aren’t the only magic-wielding hybrids on the planet. I think gaining more family is my highlight too, even if I won’t get to see them that much.”

Everyone picks up on Hope’s sadness as she quietly wilts back in her spot. Hayley licks her lips and reaches out to rest a comforting hand on her daughter’s leg. “Well, my post-year highlight was helping a serious number of newly triggered wolves off the streets. It started with one by chance and now I’m proud to say that the youth program is going strong,” she shares.

Keelin looks down at Mikaela in her arms. “Hey, Roo Roo. Do you have a favorite part of this year,” she asks. “Too many,” the child exclaims. Her relatives chuckle at her chipper mannerisms as her mother smiles. “Like what?” Mikaela ponders the question for a moment. “Mama and Auntie Bridget taught me lots of magic and Jordan became my best friend in the whole world and Miss Veda got to go to the good place. And now I’m gonna be the _strongest_ big sister, just like Mama.” Several pairs of eyes gaze at the little hybrid with endearment. “Are you excited, cutie,” Hayley asks. Mikaela nods enthusiastically before turning to carefully rest her hand on Freya’s belly.

“I’ll always protect her no matter what.”

**_Jordan and Mikaela sit on the couch as Freya and Keelin stand before them with suspicious body language. “Are we going to that weird boarding school or something,” the teenager inquires, arching a brow. “Of course not. We just want to talk to you both about something important and see how you feel,” the wolf reclaims. “Is Hope coming here? She told me that school’s out for Thanksgiving,” Mikaela chirps, perking up. Freya shakes her head. “No, baby girl. Hope’s not coming but I promise that we’ll make plans soon.” The child shrinks down in her seat. “Okay,” she drawls. The Viking bites her lip, staring at her daughter as her wife takes a deep breath. “So this is pretty big news. That’s why we’ve been waiting for the right time to include you in it.”_ **

**_Jordan’s face contorts into personified stress. “You’re not getting a divorce are you,” she questions urgently. Both of her aunts shake their heads furiously. “You don’t ever have to worry about that okay? Whenever there’s a problem we work through it together. Always,” Freya affirms. Jordan relaxes in her seat. “Okay…then what is it?” Keelin shares a look with Freya before settling her eyes on the two girls. “We’re having a baby. Freya is pregnant which means in the near future…you two will have a little person to look out for,” she reveals._ **

**_Jordan’s eyebrows shoot up in astonishment as Mikaela’s face falls completely. “What? Are you serious,” the former asks. Keelin nods while grinning. “Yeah. Last month we found out that we’re adding another little girl to our family. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’ll explain everything. Kinda involves a mutation in our bloodline so it’s probably best to kill two birds with one stone.”_ **

**_Three pairs of eyes look to Mikaela who’s bowing her head in silence. Freya licks her lips and steps forward before kneeling in front of the child. “Hey, baby girl. How are you feeling about all this?” She receives a shrug in response and cradles Mikaela’s cheeks to lift her head. “Hey. You know that you can tell me anything, anything in the entire world remember?”_ **

**_Tears begin to pool into shiny hazel eyes. “I don’t want you to have a baby,” the hybrid admits, shaking her head. “If you have another little girl then I won’t be your baby girl anymore.” Freya instantly shakes her head. “That will never happen because you will always be my baby girl. Did you know that I was so sad before I had you?” Mikaela nods affirmatively while sniffling._ **

**_“Because your family went away,” she utters._ **

**_Her mother nods while searching her eyes. “Yeah. I had to grow up without my family, without my brothers and my sister. So when they were forced to go away it made me feel like that same sad little girl all over again. I didn’t want to miss out on anything with my siblings, and it made me so sad and angry to think that I would. But then your Mommy helped to make me feel better. She gave me love, a home, and most of all…you. I’ve never been happier since the day you came into my life, Mikaela. You’re my baby girl, always and forever. I promise okay?”_ **

**_Mikaela nods accordingly and Freya wraps her up in a warm hug before kissing her head. “This baby is going to need you too. For a long time I couldn’t be there for your Auntie Bex, but I will make sure that you two will always have each other. Family means so much, baby girl. It means everything so you have to protect the ones you love no matter what. Understand?”_ **

**_Mikaela pulls away to pierce the eyes that embody her own. “I’ll always protect you, Mama. Mommy and Jordan…and the baby too because I’m a Mikaelson,” she attests. Freya beams at her daughter with boundless love and pride. “You are a Mikaelson,” she affirms, nodding while stroking soft curls. Jordan scoots over to rub Mikaela’s back soothingly and Keelin crouches down to place a hand on the child’s knee before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead._ **

* * *

 

Kol appears in the doorway, laying eyes on Davina seated at the foot of their bed. A golden cocker spaniel lies in the brunette’s lap while a black one rests by her side, head tucked between his paws. “What’s with the stuffy atmosphere in here? Did somebody die a tragic death?” Davina peers over at Kol with little amusement. “My _friends_ aren’t coming.” She shrugs, shaking her head. “And you know, I could’ve been fine with that had I not found out what they really think of me.” Her husband furrows his brows before entering the room.

He heads straight for the bed and picks up the black dog, resting him in his lap after plopping down next to the witch. “What could they possibly think about you that doesn’t highlight your absolute perfection?” Davina shakes her head in protest. “I’m not perfect, Kol. According to the secret group chat I was accidentally tagged in I’m _quite_ the opposite. I’m neurotic, unseasoned when it comes to the true lifestyle, and nowhere near as charismatic as my sexy husband. Actual words used, not an exaggeration by the way. Oh my god, I’m my mother,” she cries.

Kol wraps a supportive arm around her. “Hey now, take it easy. You’re not your mother in the slightest, darling. Those girls that you’ve been running around with take sick pleasure in creating shallow experiences with mommy and daddy’s money. But you, Davina Claire, are different. You’ve went up against the Original Hybrid, The Vampire Who Hunts Vampires, an unfortunate series of vengeful witches. You’ve reformed a maniacal killer, saved your hometown on occasion, and traveled abroad to help others out of the pure kindness of your heart. While those delusional twenty-somethings get lost in their fabricated lives you change the world one day at a time.”

Davina can’t stop a bright smile from manifesting on her lips as Kol lifts the black dog up to her eyeline, both of them wearing cute puppy faces. “And if that’s somehow not enough you can be certain that Berkeley loves you, along with his sleepy brother Ben and your _incredibly_ sexy husband,” the original proclaims. His wife chuckles as he lowers their pet back into his lap.

“Maybe they were a tiny bit right about me not deserving you.”

“I don’t think so. I know better than to believe it is me who deserves you. Because I don’t, not even a tiny bit.”

Their eyes exchange each individual truth before a wave of emotion passes over them. Davina grips the back of Kol’s neck to guide him into a passionate kiss. After a few moments they slowly pull back to gaze at each other tenderly. “Now that I’ve successfully cheered you up, how about we get started on that batch of cookies and enjoy the evening with our boys,” Kol proposes. Davina approves the idea with a beam.

“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

 

Red and amber lights stain the cobblestone pathway as closely compacted shops tower above. Elijah strolls through the narrow street alongside Lilith while holding his suit jacket over his shoulder. “Lilith is quite an interesting name. A devilish figure corrupting the weak with wanton desires and devouring infants in ancient Jewish folklore,” he comments, breaking the early morning stillness.

“I’m not opposed to having older children and adults as appetizers. And corrupting the righteous is certainly more fun than preying on the powerless. But then again, I don’t expect mythological depictions to coincide with painstaking accuracy.”

Elijah grins to himself and Lilith gazes at him with satisfaction. “My given name was far too innocent for my tastes. All those centuries ago I was reborn into a world of unspeakable violence. There was a woman that found me and gave me shelter, a creature of the night like us. She provided me with wondrous fantasies along with the name, Lillian.” Dark eyes regard her curiously.

“What came of this miraculous savior?”

“Well, she was not without a vicious reputation. Things became dangerous so she sent me far away. I was a constant reminder of her demons and she…couldn’t take care of me anymore.”

Elijah redirects his gaze to the ground before looking straight ahead. “The story echoes a strange familiarity. An enigmatic character losing the chance of redemption to a history of nefarious deeds,” he utters coldly. Lilith observes him closely. “Seems as if you’ve studied this one plenty. Or perhaps…you are the enigma,” she surmises.

“I suppose in some way. Many centuries of my life were devoted to the redemption of my brother. Over the years I’ve come to accept that the fulfillment I was so desperately seeking in return may not come so easily.”

Coming to a halt Lilith suddenly grabs onto Elijah’s forearm. “You can tell me, Elijah. It’s clear to see that you’ve been trying to atone for your sins a long time. The issue with your methods is that instead of bringing them to light you hide them behind a shadowy façade of order, perfection. And you bury your true self deeper, tragic flaws and all. That’s not how recovery works. You have to accept your faults and embrace every part of yourself, even the most shameful parts.” Elijah gets lost in the pure eyes reflecting all his secrets, lies, love, loss, hopes, dreams, desires, and fears right back to him.

His quivering lips part slightly. “There was a time where I truly allowed myself to want more than a broken family vow. It was several years after I parted ways with my siblings to keep them safe from our merciless father. By then my disgraceful brother had relapsed into the cruelty we had fought so hard to reform.” He slowly shakes his head and pauses for a moment, mouth agape as he relives the distant memories.

“He was beside himself with paranoia, an insatiable thirst for power and a relentless fear of rejection. There were witches at his beck and call, fortifying various spells to keep me at a distance. For decades I attempted to reunite with my family to very little success. Even when I was able to manage a precise location my brother was gone upon my arrival. The 1930s, 40s, 50s, and even the 1960s came and went before I was confronted with an irrefutable truth. It had been many lifetimes since I had felt…so at peace without the curse of always and forever.”

Elijah tilts his head gravely. “The most shameful part is that the next forty years were spent…idle in the quest to retrieve my daggered siblings and punish our irrational brother. I had only resumed my goal once I was led to believe he had buried them at sea.” Lilith cautiously cups his cheeks. “You’ve never told anyone this have you,” she questions with concern.

“I haven’t spoken of it out loud in the century since its existence.”

Lilith caresses his cheekbone with a thumb as she moves in close. “Then you never have to speak on it again in all the centuries to come. But stop torturing yourself for wanting a purpose that fulfills you as just Elijah, the man. Being Elijah Mikaelson, the devoted brother doesn’t have to define you. And there’s too much time in the world to waste it on evading every single trace of desire. Nothing is truly forbidden if you want it bad enough.”

Their eyes bore into one another intensely and Elijah crosses the invisible boundary to gently grip Lilith’s nape. He eases into an aching kiss and finds himself intoxicated on contact. The urge to keep his distance tugs him away slightly, but as he rests his forehead against the object of his current desire he ultimately loses the fight. Exhaling deeply, they take the plunge back into the heated moment, exploring each other greedily against the back entry of the Löwenbräu hotel.

* * *

 

“This frivolous holiday is a poisonous reminder of the six years I’ve been without my daughter in the flesh. All I want is to hold her in my arms again, and to never give my enemies the satisfaction of ever letting her go.”

Hunched over the bar counter Klaus takes a sip from his glass. Marcel observes the hybrid from the next seat over while lightly tapping his nails on the polished wood. “Believe me, I get that. I lost plenty of time with Davina that I can’t get back. But _you_ can’t lose your head so early in the game. I heard that any day now Elijah will be closing in on a deal with the Mayor of Cologne. The last thing he needs is his stubborn ass brother messing that up.”

Klaus turns his head to Marcel. “Tell me. Was your estrangement from Davina the work of an unconquerable foe or merely an act of absentee parenthood,” he inquires bitterly. The upgraded vampire tilts his head with a regretful look. “And why should I care about whatever tedious deal Elijah has brewing with that fiendish lecher? If I wanted to subject myself to suits babbling on about negotiations I’d turn on the bloody news for once.”

“You should care because Wilhelm Köhler has access to valuable resources. He’s got his hands in corporate business, nonprofit organizations that house secret societies you’ll never get an invitation to without a clean image.”

Klaus sluggishly waves a hand in the air. “Etcetera, etcetera. I’m still missing the part where this warrants my immediate concern. In fact, my poor brother’s necessity for traveling on business has driven a bit of a wedge between us this past year. So quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about his impending alliance with a washed-up politician.” He finishes off his drink as Marcel spectates.

“ _Okay_ , here’s why you should. Those secret societies collect ancient artifacts, records, and powerful witch allies. My guess is that Elijah is counting on finding something or someone to put an end to the Hollow for good.” Klaus lifts his chin, suddenly attentive and Marcel lifts his glass up while nodding. “Yeah. While you’ve spent your free time here terrorizing the locals _and_ the tourists Elijah has been working to finally put his family back together. Hate him or love him but he’s one devoted guy when he finds a worthy cause.”

“Is this an attempt to reprimand me or to inspire hope? I simply cannot tell. Hm, perhaps you just want me on a leash. I’m starting to suspect Rebekah did send you after all.”

“Is this you having your head so far up your own ass that you actually think she has time to hire a sitter?”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot about her breathtaking travels. She’s in the company of a witch who so naturally enchanted her with a _friends to lovers_ scenario. I would say you were the better man of course but… _circumstances_.”

Klaus and Marcel stare at each other critically before bursting into drunken grins. The latter wags his pointer finger while still gripping his glass. “Alright. Good one.” He takes a long sip of his liquor. The former chuckles a little before miserably looking down. “Hope can only comfort a fool who is blinded by optimism, who confidently foresees contentment even through the most despairing obstacles. I am a pragmatist with an infinite number of enemies and the weight of the world on his shoulders. And yet still, I cannot lose _Hope_ , for she is my true peace of mind.” He peers up to find his companion scrutinizing him. “I only want a life with my daughter, Marcel. Just us and our family at whatever cost it may be.” Marcel places a firm hand on Klaus’s shoulder.

* * *

 

Out on the rooftop Bridget observes Rebekah tossing a piece of paper into a blazing fire pit. As Rebekah stares at the flames dancing in the cast iron disk Bridget nudges her shoulder. “Up for cheating the wishes,” the latter asks. Sighing, the blonde looks at her with a shrug. “Why not? My wish remains the same year after year. The vision of one lovely day where my family can be together, all of us uniting and constantly bickering under one roof,” she proclaims, subdued. “What a crazy coincidence, I wished for the same exact thing,” Bridget retorts lightheartedly.

Rebekah tilts her head slightly. “There is no need to coddle me, Bridget. I won’t break in the face of foreseeable disappointment and surely I won’t waste another moment dwelling on what cannot be changed for now,” she attests, knitting her brows in thought. “You know, I could go for a bit of people-gazing though.” Grinning, Bridget offers a hand to Rebekah who returns the gesture before accepting it. They head over to the railing and lean onto the support while looking out at the dazzling city. A comfortable silence envelopes them for several moments.

“When you think back to how this year began could you have believed we’d be ending it here?”

“I…could only hope so. Can you imagine me still living life as an emotional wreck under the guise of a free-spirited bachelorette? Talk about embarrassing.”

Rebekah grins to herself as Bridget strokes her hand with a thumb. “I was no better. You’ve never seen me at my loneliest, somewhere in Saint-Tropez or Ibiza dancing the night away to forget for a while. I absolutely hate that electronic ruckus, but I think I found comfort in seeing that I wasn’t the only one secretly longing for more. Happiness, a true place to call home, someone to love who would return those feelings equally and without conditions.” Bridget slowly turns her head to gaze at Rebekah’s profile, blinking quietly as she admires it against the backdrop of a starry sky.

“I love you, Rebekah.”

The vampire redirects her awestruck eyes to the woman offering a sheepish grin that fades into a look of conviction. “I don’t wanna keep doing this thing where I wait until there’s chaos to express how I really feel inside. So I just want you to know that right now, you’re living in the moment with someone who wants a future with you. Every day it becomes more crazy how real that is for me because…I can’t help but to love all that you are, every single bit. I love _you_.” Tears prick at Rebekah’s bright eyes as she chuckles lightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the unexpected confession.

“I love you too, Bridget. Truly, madly, deeply so.”

Bridget grins widely and rotates to cup Rebekah’s cheeks before delicately taking her lips into her own. Pulling back slightly, they catch a glimpse of pure contentment and constancy in their individual eyes. Not a second goes by before they’re eagerly crashing their lips while cradling each other’s faces. The New York City skyline sparkles marvelously in the background.

* * *

 

A distracted Kol rests on the couch with Davina lying across his lap wrapped in a grey fleece blanket. “This is perfect. I’m glad it’s just you and me,” the witch mutters before yawning with her eyes shut. Her husband runs a finger across his bottom lip. “Likewise, darling. What more could one ask for,” he responds. “What is it? You’re using your seriously sad tone, I can tell.” Kol removes his arm draped over Davina as she sits up to settle beside him with a knowing look.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s a blissful Saturday evening and I’m cuddling my beautiful wife. No sadness detected here I’m afraid.”

Davina tilts her head incredulously. “Okay. Something is definitely wrong here. This whole perfectly happy husband act,” she pauses, waving a hand for emphasis. “I’m not buying it.” Kol stares at her before narrowing his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he sighs out stressfully. “I am my most happiest self here with you, Davina. But unfortunately for me it’s hard to feel content when I know that my siblings are out there moaning over a new year without their _glorious_ always and forever.” His wife provides a sympathetic gaze before massaging his shoulder.

“Then call them. Let them know you’re there for them,” she recommends.

“No, absolutely not. I never said anything about bringing their pity party into our home.”

“Kol Mikaelson…”

Kol sighs exasperatedly while rolling his eyes. “Fine but must you use your seriously reprimanding tone? Hopefully I’ll get a punishment out of it.” He smirks suggestively instigating Davina’s quick assault on his shoulder. “Sure. How about a timeout,” the witch proposes. “Hey, I can’t help that I’m a naughty boy,” Kol quips. Davina rolls her eyes exaggeratedly while grinning.

* * *

 

**NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.**

In the courtyard Freya snaps a picture of Keelin, Hayley, Jordan, Hope, and Mikaela all blowing on their fringe party horns. Laughing gleefully, Hope engulfs Mikaela in an affectionate hug while Hayley wraps an arm around Jordan’s shoulders before resting her head against the teen’s. Keelin leans in to smooch Freya who gently cradles her face. They share two more pecks and smile at each other before the Viking moves to show her wife the pictures she captured. Jordan swoops in to claim the DSLR camera and starts bombarding the couple with candid photos as Hayley, Hope, and Mikaela laugh raucously.

_Dear siblings,_

_My wife insisted that I give you some necessary words of encouragement. We both know how you all get around this time since our involuntary separation. Well, not completely involuntary in my case but you get my point. Anyhow, Davina suggested a call to each of you, but I gather you won’t be able to reach the phone in your collective misery. So, I’ve settled on the perfectly millennial way, a group message with a particularly classic flair._

**COLOGNE, GERMANY.**

City lights bleed through the sheer curtains of a wide balcony window, bathing two tangled bodies in a light shimmer. Lilith grips Elijah’s hair and tries to steady her breathing as he sucks on a sensitive spot of her neck. She suddenly flips him over on his back and raises up slowly within the fur cover to look down on him. Enraptured, Elijah enjoys the view as Lilith unhooks her red lace bra and dangles the underwear before dropping it to the carpeted floor. In a lustful haze his true face emerges and within a fraction of a second he’s up wrapping one arm around her torso. While gripping her neck with his free hand he captures her lips feverishly.

_Option 1._

_If the separation anxiety has gotten so bad that even you pity yourself, well, grab a drink and find someone to get under for the night. Everyone but Freya of course. Can’t risk any harm being brought to the precious cargo you’re carrying._

 

**SOUTH BEACH MIAMI, FLORIDA.**

Klaus and Marcel clink shot glasses before throwing their drinks back simultaneously. Marcel taps the countertop, signaling the bartender to bring another round. Klaus grins widely and turns his head to catch sight of the New York City fireworks being broadcasted on the mounted TV. His spirits drop a little as thoughts of his closest sibling infiltrates his foggy mind. Although his cheerful expression shrinks he turns his attention back to Marcel and pats him on the back before they prepare to take the next shot.

_Option 2._

_Find solace in some pub dwelling and as mentioned in option one, grab a drink or several in your case. Maybe confide in a dear friend if it all becomes too much, either one you’ve compelled or perhaps one you’ve managed to keep somehow throughout centuries of torment. Again, this excludes you big sis. But in my defense you possess a bit more stability than the rest of the lot._

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK.**

As the smell of rose oil and vanilla saturates the air a myriad of candles cast a warm glow over the master bathroom. In the tub overflowing with bubbles Rebekah straddles Bridget while vigorously sudsing up her curls. Bridget slyly covers Rebekah’s face in a foamy beard inciting merry laughter from both of them. An intense burst of colors and the loud crackling of fireworks draw their attention to the window. After a moment Rebekah reaches behind them to grasp two champagne flutes. She hands one to Bridget and they clink their glasses before sipping their chilled drinks.

_Option 3._

_Indulge in a long, hot shower to clear your mind for a bit. Or take a page out of Bekah’s self-care book and have a delightful little bubble bath. You’d be surprised at what the right bath bomb could accomplish for your pores and seasonal depression. Now this, you can join in on Freya. And have at it._

**SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.**

A vintage turntable spins a vinyl record on a wooden stand. The coffee table is pushed aside giving Kol and Davina a decent amount of space to slow dance. The Grandfather Clock in the corner begins to chime a full sequence as the new hour strikes. Kol pulls back to look down at a smiley Davina. “I believe it’s time to turn the beast into a beauty with one…little…kiss.” He lowers his head to collide his lips with hers, encircling her back as she wraps her arms around his neck.

_Option 4._

_Enjoy a beautiful night indoors. If you were lucky enough to secure a companion via options one or two then you might want to dance and laugh until the day is done. There is nothing more comforting in the world than acceptance. You accept what you can’t change and find peace. You accept yourself and you find inner joy. The bigger message here is that we Mikaelsons have a bad habit of being thrown together. Believe me I’ve tried to get away a countless number of times, admittedly a few to my own detriment. But the matter is, we’ve yet to elude the indestructible always and forever. Through the petty squabbles and one deadly crisis after another we just can’t seem to stop finding our way back, even when we’re conspiring to make each other’s lives hell. This isn’t a new year to mourn the loss of physical contact. It is one to celebrate the connections we do have. So dry your eyes and pick yourselves back up because endless opportunities await you all._

_Yours truly,_

_The Wise Black Sheep_


	14. Kith And Kin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keelin takes Freya along to visit a distant relative for information on her lineage; Hayley takes the girls on a day trip to the bayou; Elijah faces the revelation of Lilith's true nature while being forced to confront his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So the alternative werewolf mythology begins in this chapter. I always felt like the werewolf culture was poorly done and basically throw away/half assed ideas on both TVD/TO. Given that vampires were always the protagonists and centered creatures I didn't expect wolves to have all the attention on them but their treatment was just plain ridiculous. So, I wanted to build a world for them. Considering the fact that I hadn't realized the actual seven original packs were named in TO until long after I had already made my own, I just decided to continue with my own canon of them. Especially since I counted 8 packs introduced when there's supposed to be only 7 and none of them were distinguishable anyway except for the Crescents. Like I said, the writers didn't spend the proper time on them from what I gather. Other than the wolf history there's some sorta creepy Hope, a little Lilith background, and pieces of Elijah's past that will play into his storyline. As always, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) RKCB - 'Till We're In The Sea: Freya talks to Hayley on the phone, Jordan finds Hope snooping.
> 
> 2) Rebecca Roubion - Don't Know Who I Am: Elijah wakes up to a bloodbath.
> 
> 3) Freyr Flodgren - I'm Here: Freya and Keelin meet Jess.
> 
> 4) Lane Simkins - Cycles: Hayley and Mary talk about Hope, Hope finds Jordan in the woods.
> 
> 5) Matt Maeson - Put It On Me: Lilith and Elijah talk/fight.
> 
> 6) Greta Svabo Bech - All My Bones: Jordan argues with Hope; Freya and Keelin look through the Wade genealogy; Patrick and Dustin fight.
> 
> 7) Marian Hill - Breathe Into Me: Lilith tells Elijah about the Cup of a Thousand Suns.
> 
> 8) Maria Kelly - June: Hayley talks to Hope; Freya and Keelin talk in bed.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

At a blue gas pump, Freya stands next to a silver Range Rover with her phone pressed to her ear. “We’re in Lake Charles, about an hour away from Keelin’s relative. Is everything alright on your end?” Hayley’s calm voice exits the speaker. “Everything is just fine. I was thinking about taking the girls out to the bayou to get some good ol’ fresh air. Mary will hunt me down with her shotgun if I let another day pass without visiting.” Freya tilts her head full of reservations while observing a series of cars whizzing by.

“And she’s totally fine with you bringing part of the _dreadful_ Mikaelson clan with you?”

“Hope is a Mikaelson too you know,” Hayley sighs out. “And even if that sweet old lady could turn away kids based on affiliation, she wouldn’t ignore their Malraux heritage.” Freya chuckles humorlessly. “Ah, good defense. You’re really going to break that sweet old lady,” she retorts, sarcastic. “We’ll talk when you check back in, Freya. Be careful,” Hayley replies knowingly.

“Bye.”

Freya locks her phone and removes the nozzle to situate it back onto the gas pump. Keelin approaches with a white plastic bag in her grasp. “How’s everything back at the homestead,” she asks. “Hayley has it covered. She’s taking the girls on a day trip to the bayou,” her wife notifies. “Good. They need a taste of the great outdoors. And while we’re cooped up for another hour or _so_ …we can binge on junk.” With a goofy smile Keelin lifts the bag of goodies up causing Freya to grin amusedly in response.

 

At the compound, Hayley shakes her head while tucking her phone into her jacket. She shifts her weight off the balcony and spins around just in time to catch Jordan strolling along, nose deep in a grimoire. “Hey, spread the news. We’re going to the bayou so all the magic stuff will have to wait for just one day.” The teenager peers up at her temporary guardian before shrugging.

“Fine with me. I was getting kinda bored anyway.”

Hayley beams, lifting her chin proudly. “Attagirl. Now try rubbing some of that spirit off on Hope please,” she requests. Jordan closes the grimoire and tucks it under her arm as she continues on. “I’ll see what I can do but no promises.” She reaches her bedroom soon enough, slowing to a halt near the threshold when she discovers Hope hovering over the bedside table. She dramatically clears her throat to gain the tribrid’s attention.

“Oh hey.”

Jordan quirks an eyebrow at a smiley Hope. “Hey. Was there something you needed,” the former queries. The latter shakes her head. “I was just helping Mikaela look for her totem necklace. She’s refusing to do anything without it,” she informs. After dropping the grimoire on her desk Jordan comes over to her bed. “Révéler l’objet perdu,” she whispers.

No magical alteration occurs as she stops in front of Hope before raising her brows. “Nothing here. I’ll let the snooping slide this time.” Blue eyes narrow slightly, giving their indiscretion away. “Sorry. You just have so many books I’ve never seen before. I was checking them out and then I got caught up in looking at some more of your sketches. They’re amazing.”

Jordan offers a small smile. “Thanks. And don’t worry about it. Maybe…I can show you some things after we get back from the bayou. By the way, your mom is expecting high spirits.” Hope rolls her eyes while shaking her head in disdain. “What’s new,” she huffs. Mikaela bursts into the bedroom holding up her wolf totem. “I found Beast you guys! Now we can go to the bayou,” she cheers. Her two cousins smirk at her innocent excitement.

* * *

 

_Elijah opens his eyes, finding himself in a long hallway painted in white. Gulping silently, he slowly advances and takes notice of multiple slaughterhouse doors stained with red blood. Upbeat music and tentative footsteps echo throughout the corridor as he approaches the only sterile door present. He pauses in front of it and releases a breath before grabbing the brass knob and twisting it open. He pushes through the barrier to step onto a rooftop, meeting the sight of bright blue lights spinning in the night sky. Within seconds the Ferris Wheel lights shift into a portentous red._

_“John?”_

_Elijah turns around to see a young fair-skinned woman hugging an oversized jacket around her body. As he tilts his head she fixes her chestnut locks. “Oh. Forgive me. You’re Elijah right? I was waiting for you to show up.” The woman’s doe eyes shift from a prismatic hazel to complete darkness before her skin takes on a bluish tint. Elijah gapes in horror and backs away, shaking his head until he tumbles off the ledge._

Elijah springs up in a cold sweat, face caked in dried blood as he blows out a heavy puff of air. His bloodshot eyes scan Lilith’s bedroom before landing on the two bodies sprawled out next to him. The lifeless blonde woman rests on her back with a chilling stare while the raven-haired man lies facedown in the bloody sheets. Furrowing his brows, Elijah maneuvers his body to rise from the bed and swiftly grabs a white t-shirt on the red chair by the window. He pulls the article of clothing over his head and walks around the bed to escape the horrific scene. As he pads into the living room Lilith exits the open office space wearing a black off shoulder blouse, skintight leather pants, and heels.

“Good, you’re awake. I had concerns about your blood binge running into today’s plans.”

Elijah glances at the two men hunched over on the stained ivory sofa and instinctively wipes his lips before noticing his dirty hands. He halts all movement to scrutinize Lilith. “I don’t understand. What day is it and what is this atrocity?” He waits as she throws a glance over at the victims before settling her undaunted eyes back on him.

“Oh that. You insisted on Mr. Abs joining our swinging party last night. Who am I to deny a little more male energy?” She casually saunters over to cradle his weary face in her hands. “Don’t worry though. You’ve only had your fun for New Years Day. I gather that blackouts are common for you under great stress but I’m here to make things easier. I swear this to you.”

Visions of a wild night at the club begin to sink in for Elijah. It’s almost as if his body is reliving yesterday’s intoxicating events. _He recognizes the unmistakable lust in Lilith’s eyes as she grinds on him, the exhilaration of their hunt for fresh blood on the dancefloor, and the satisfaction upon luring unsuspecting strangers back to the penthouse for their own ruthless enjoyment_.

Rendered speechless, Elijah stares at Lilith blankly while pulling her hands from his face. “What have you done to me,” he questions, backing away. Lilith tilts her head with interest. “More like what have you done to yourself. Last night you were the freest you’ve ever been, but I understand Elijah. You have questions that I’m more than willing to answer,” she reclaims, sustaining his apprehensive gaze.

* * *

 

**BEAUMONT, TEXAS.**

The silver Range Rover pulls up to the curb in front of an apricot bungalow. “This is it.” Keelin shifts the car into park and turns the engine off before looking to Freya. After a moment they both get a glimpse of the home and begin unbuckling their seatbelts. Keelin exits the SUV first and shuts the door before briskly circling the front to meet Freya. They join hands as they trek up the concrete path to reach the porch housing a cozy-looking swing.

After stepping up to the tall double doors Keelin presses the designated button before knocking twice. The wait is brief as the doors pull open to reveal a woman about her height and complexion. Wavy brown tresses fall past the woman’s shoulders and she’s wearing a yellow graphic t-shirt with plain blue jeans. “Hi. Are you Jessica Wade,” Keelin inquires, smiling brightly.

“Keelin Mikaelson,” the woman questions, grinning.

“I can confirm that I’m the Malraux wolf hellbent on hunting you down.”

The door opens wider in an instant. “Then come on in. You can just call me Jess by the way.” Keelin nods accordingly while ushering Freya into the home first. They step onto the shiny hardwood floors and wait patiently as Jess secures the front door before spinning around. “Jess, this is my wife Freya. Or I guess my mate is the more appropriate title in wolf speak.”  

Jess inspects Freya while nodding. “Oh, very pretty and leggy. I see how the whole mating deal happened now. It’s a pleasure having you too, Freya.” The Viking provides a coy grin. “Thank you, and likewise,” she replies. The host looks between the couple before moving around them to take the lead.

“The living room is right this way. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to dive right into the family tree _or_ chill out with some slightly awkward small talk.”

Keelin and Freya roam their eyes over the home as they follow Jess into the spacious room. There’s a sizable TV, some plants on the windowsills, a brown wrap around sofa, and several white shelves filled with an impressive collection of literature. “No, that’s perfect actually. Your home is beautiful though,” the doctor comments.

“Thanks. My grandmother left it to me after she passed. My mom wasn’t the most dependable wolf in her book nor trustworthy.”

Jess finally stops at the coffee table piled with books prompting her guests to stare in awe. “Is that everything about our bloodline,” Keelin asks, standing a few feet away. Her relative peers up at her before summoning a cheeky grin. “Just…everything you need to know about who you are.” Two matching pairs of chestnut eyes bore into each other with expectancy.

* * *

 

A little boy sits on top of a picnic table watching Mary crush herbs in a wooden bowl. Hayley stands off to the side, listening to the elder speak while folding her arms across her chest. “Things are fine here. There’s nothing but kids running around, a couple of boneheads trying to hunt. It’s been quiet considering most of the wolves moved on to the city life under the witches. Either way us bayou folk haven’t had this peace in a long time.” Hayley bites her lip as Mary begins mixing ingredients in the bowl.

“You know, I’m really happy that you have this backwoods paradise, but Mystic Falls has plenty of wolves around to care for. One of which is your troubled great-granddaughter.”

Mary throws Hayley a look over her shoulder before using two fingers to cover a leaf with the completed paste. “You think I’ve stopped caring about Hope, do you? Well buttering me up and then guilt tripping me won’t change my mind, Hayley. This is where I belong. And if you ask me it’s where you and your daughter belong too.”

She picks up the leaf and brings it to the boy’s badly scraped knee, pressing it carefully as he winces. “Just let it sit, honey. Once it’s done its work you’ll feel better in no time.” The boy nods in understanding and allows the elder to ruffle his hair with an affectionate grin. Hayley sighs defeatedly. “I know you care about Hope. That’s exactly why I want you to be there. Sometimes she seems so lost I’m afraid I won’t be able to reach her when it really counts. She could do with a positive influence in her life that won’t just up and leave her. She needs you, Mary.”

Mary finally turns around to face Hayley head on. “Look, I understand how you feel. You have a special young lady on your hands, one connected to a tragic family. You want a good life for her like any decent mother, but you can’t pack me in your suitcase and expect an easy solution. We both know I can’t fit into your lives that way, not even for your girl. Count the fact she’s seemed to outgrow me and my old Crescent ways. She’s changing, all the time and I just can’t keep up.” She shakes her head. “Not if she doesn’t want me to, Hayley.” Coming closer, Hayley provides a pleading gaze while dropping her arms. “She just wants to belong somewhere. I know that feeling which is why I’m fighting to keep her from breaking because of it,” she proclaims.

“Sad to say, but as long as she’s a Mikaelson that’s a _big_ possibility. I’m aware that I’m seen as the bitter, old vampire-hating wolf always blaming your family but I’m just looking out for you. You think I didn’t catch a whiff of the torment following that Malraux hybrid you brought here? She’s not a Mikaelson by blood but under the guardianship of that big sister she’s close enough. I got a feeling Hope’s drawn to that bit of darkness. The loss, the fear, the loneliness. They’re all things she can relate to. It’s clear she’s looking to fill the void her family left and that might not be too good for your sake.” Hayley tilts her head slightly while considering Mary’s observations.

 

Elsewhere, Jordan explores the woods alone. A content smile graces her lips as she gapes at the towering trees reaching for the clear blue sky. The sudden crunching of leaves and a twig snapping infiltrate her ears. Her movements cease temporarily and there’s not a soul in sight as she cautiously turns to scan her surroundings. Suddenly, a hand grasps her shoulder causing her to whip around on high alert. Her mind registers Hope as the culprit and begins to buckle down on the defensive mode. “It’s just you. Why are you out here creeping around? I thought I was alone.”

As she breathes out in relief Hope grabs her hand and tugs her over to a large boulder to sit down. “Well you’re not out here alone. The others are playing Wolves’ Den and I’m the only one standing in the way of you getting hauled off by a catcher,” the tribrid remarks. Jordan knits her brows in confusion. “A catcher,” she repeats as a question.

“One person plays the Catcher while the others try not to get captured. If you get _caught_ , you become a fur coat.”  

“Got it, but there's just one thing. I never joined in on this bayou game.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re part wolf and you’re wandering around the territory. These activities weren’t meant to be all fun and games. They were created as a way to teach us how to survive without even realizing it.”

Jordan studies Hope for a moment before licking her lips. “You know a lot about this stuff huh?” The younger girl nods while smiling proudly. “My witch side is dominant for right now, but I grew up with Crescent tradition too. You’ve met my flannel-wearing keepers,” she quips. “Your mom is pretty proud about her heritage, but I guess the stealth skills are all Grandma,” the hybrid retorts.

Hope purses her lips in response. “Mary isn’t my grandmother, but she did teach me a few things. I can tell you a lot about your pack’s history if you want,” she offers eagerly. A gradual smile settles on Jordan’s lips inciting one on her companion’s face soon after.

* * *

 

The decaying body of a short-haired woman lies on a ten-seated dining table. Her internal organs are nowhere to be found, with the exception of the intestines hanging from the abstract ornament suspended from the ceiling above. Her blood drips from the wood finish down to the cream and charcoal colored rug below. Elijah, refreshed in a custom suit, is perched in a chair at one end of the table, closest to the silver set of double doors while Lilith sits at the other end right in front of the wooden set. “Your cleanliness is certainly divine,” the former remarks, sarcastic.

“Sorry. I admit that I deceived you with my modesty when we met.”

“Indeed you have. Which brings me to one very important matter. _Who_ , or rather _what_ are you?”

Lilith beams with pleasure. “I’ve told no tales, Elijah. I’m still very much an influencer and equally an enthusiast of AB positive,” she quips. Elijah tilts his head slightly, discerning her. “I see. And what I presume to be an overindulgent…”

“Oh you could only wish. Unlike you and your family I was created by Nature itself. You see, despite the overly righteousness of earthly forces everything still requires balance. That means the light, and the dark. So in true biblical fashion I became the world’s first psychic as an answer to the very first witch.”

Elijah raises his chin, narrowing his eyes. “I suppose this is how you were able to manipulate one of the strongest minds in history,” he construes. Lilith rises from her chair and moseys over to him before leaning over the table. “Several minds. I knew that I could be awfully persuasive, but the Lord Mayor was just so…transparent about his desires. You could say it was a swift takeover. Then I heard about the original ruling Europe so when the chance to meet him conveniently presented itself I just _had_ to take it. Orchestrating our perfect first date was less difficult than I had anticipated.”

“How utterly pleasant for me. My most devoted fanatic, cunning and calculating all carried out on an exquisite pair of legs.”

“Please. It was nothing you haven’t done in your thousand-year smokescreen. Everything you appear to be is a meticulously crafted illusion. You made it so easy for me to twist the knife onto you, but god was it _exhausting_ to be your source of comfort for even the briefest period. I can’t imagine what your doomed lovers endured in all that time spent with you.”

Elijah scowls as dark veins ripple on his face, but with an inaudible sigh he eases himself. Lilith tilts her head, smirking mischievously. “And there he is. Now I see why you were so uptight all those centuries. You were too busy denying yourself carnal pleasure.” Elijah bares his teeth. “I will grant you one chance to end this madness but that’s all you get,” he rumbles, shaking his head. “I’m not particularly empathetic under an ill temperament.” Lilith leans in close, lowering her gaze to the vampire’s. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she retorts.

* * *

 

“We share a great-great-great-great-grandmother. Helen Wade.”

Keelin and Freya peer up from the countless photographs littering the coffee table. “And she was a Sierra Pack wolf,” the former inquires. “Yup,” Jess confirms. “A famous healer among the tribe. Our bloodlines are matriarchal which is why her name was carried down to me. However, your great-great-grandmother married into the Khan Pack, gave birth to your great-grandmother who then married into the Malraux Pack and had your grandmother. By the time you were born that Northern Sierra culture was wiped out and replaced with the Malraux way.”

“My grandmother and my father never really explained much, only that my special trait came from another pack through marriage.”

Jess takes a swig of her beer. “Mm, your ability did come from wolves in my pack but it’s not characteristic of every bloodline. There’s an old legend about those who were born with two spirits, a balance of both masculine and feminine qualities. Nature enhanced them and so they became known as _The Embraced_. History shows they’re true pillars of the community. Militant leaders, passionate healers, dedicated teachers. They were all-around keepers of tradition which is how I even have all of this genealogy stuff to show you.” Keelin bites her lip while consuming the information.

“So…we’re cousins from a respected mystical bloodline. There’s so much about my history that I never knew. All this time…I wasn’t alone like I thought.”

Jess tilts her head sympathetically and sets her beer down on the table before resting her elbows on her knees. “Hey. You’re a Malraux, they’ll always be your people. And now that you’re Alpha it’s a huge deal for your pack. You’re the key to its survival, Keelin.” She receives an uncertain grin in response. “I doubt I’m anyone’s Alpha, Jess. I ran away from my heritage for so long.”

“Your line continues on through you regardless of the past. You’re the only one old enough to carry tradition, and you’re regarded as a werewolf messiah in my book, _literally_.”

Keelin and Freya chuckle at the notion before Jess expands on it. “Despite the pride and prejudice wolves mix and intermingle. They accept treaties, step down from high positions, and lose cultural traditions sometimes. Your situation is not uncommon. All you have to do is play to your strengths. You can be anything you want now and rebuild your pack in your own image.”

“Not to be the witch sticking her nose in wolf business but…where does all this leave our unexpected baby?”

The two werewolves redirect their eyes to the Viking. “I don’t know,” Jess breathes, shrugging. “No wolf with the ability has ever mated outside of our kind as far back as I can see. To be honest I’m still stuck on this whole thing. I was taught that it was a blessing to strengthen us as _werewolves_.” Keelin nods along. “A sacred union between two wolves aligned by the moon,” she chimes in. Jess clasps her hands while regarding the couple.

“Apparently until now.”

* * *

 

Lilith and Elijah share a penetrating gaze. “Poor, naïve Elijah. Always so quick to wipe your hands clean of a dirty deed. The violence and the brutality, the shame you want so badly to hide away from. You don’t even know what’s real anymore do you?” The original vampire drives the original psychic across the dining room, holding her against the wall firmly.

“Perhaps it is you who is suffering from the confusion here. You linger in a mind that does not belong to you. Why? Is your own truly that much of a godforsaken void to dwell in?”

Unbothered, Lilith lifts her chin. “Nice try.” Elijah yelps out in agony and grabs either side of his head as a severe aneurysm assaults his brain. A strong grip on his neck swiftly pins him to the wall. “Now you listen to me. One thing I’m not is a delusional crybaby. I know exactly who I am, and I _embrace_ it with no hesitation,” Lilith declares before shaking her head. “You’ve been gone a long time Elijah, a _very_ long time. It’s clear that I’m the only one capable of reviving you. And in return you will help me restore all my power, one way or another.” Elijah struggles in her chokehold.

“This is lunacy at its best!”

“Show me your true face! I want to see the monster inside the man.”

Elijah grunts as Lilith’s eyes are overtaken by darkness. “Better yet, let’s open your crumbling Red Door. You can trust that this will be the last time you leave it closed because once I’m done with you…it will no longer exist.” The vampire’s eyes widen as jagged teeth protrude from the psychic’s mouth. Before he can put up a fight he feels the skin of his neck breaking. An unwelcomed sea of memories comes flooding into his consciousness. Moments from the previous night where Lilith merely watched as he indulged in mercilessly feeding on victims. Others follow in quick flashes.

_Elijah rescuing a doe-eyed beauty by swiftly murdering a group of men. Systematically executing every last person that so much as joked about plotting against his family in the last few years. Ripping the throat out of Klaus’s PI before inadvertently causing his doe-eyed lover to fall to her death from a rooftop. Freya forcibly restoring his memories as Hayley pins him down in his rage._

_Viciously attacking Hayley within his Red Door. Ripping Dominic’s heart out before party guests and dropping his lifeless body from a balcony. Slitting the throats of four Harvest girls. Ripping out Marcel’s heart on a bridge. Turning an infant Hope’s stroller around before fighting three animal hunters and snapping the neck of the leader. Splattering the blood of Guerrera wolves all over their home. Extracting Thierry’s heart right in front of a distraught Marcel. Savagely murdering a diner full of patrons. Impaling a nameless vampire before the fearful eyes of Sophie Devereaux._

_Biting Ariane’s neck and pushing her into the impluvium where she bleeds out. Stabbing Céleste with Papa Tunde’s blade. Ripping out Agnes’s heart at St. Anne’s church. Grabbing Hayley in a chokehold and pinning her against the wall while suffering from Klaus’s bite. Demolishing Marcel’s original army at the compound. Thrusting his hand into Klaus’s chest and squeezing his heart after Bonnie weakens him. Brutally decapitating Trevor to Rose and Elena’s horror. Compelling Slater to stake himself in the heart after using him. Throwing some coins at the windows of a coffee shop full of vampires and causing them to burn in the sunlight._

_Draining Tatia of her blood as she screams until her death._

Eventually Elijah comes to, appearing startled but somehow free as his lips twitch. “I speak of virtue only when it’s convenient. But truthfully I am a monster capable of unspeakable acts. I kill, maim, and torment those who stand in my way. I destroy every single thing in my path with little remorse,” he attests, blinking. Lilith relinquishes him and steps back while wiping her mouth.

“Now you finally see the truth for what it is. Don’t fight it, Elijah. Embrace it and become the very thing you’re meant to be. You can be invincible,” she proclaims. Elijah focuses in on her and slowly lifts his chin. “Invincible and in pursuit of a glorious new world,” he declares. A devilish grin is gifted to him and he gladly returns the eerie expression.

* * *

 

Hope and Jordan journey deeper into the woods, hiking side by side. “Just about every wolf pack has fought a war at some point. It’s like a way of life, rite of passage or whatever. But for a long time Malrauxs were allies to Crescents,” the former states. “Aunt Keelin told me that my grandfather sold werewolf venom all over the country, even the world to get rid of vampires.”

“That’s more recent history. He was the first one in his pack to try to eliminate them on that scale. Before he was even born though the alliance between your pack and mine started to weaken because of civil wars. Malrauxs spread out all over the south and kept up their numbers compared to Crescents who were killed off by other wolves, vampires, nature…pretty much everything.”

“And then the Malrauxs were exterminated like rats.”

Hope grasps Jordan’s hand to halt their trek. “My ancestors were united with yours Jordan, something we call a brotherhood or in this case a sisterhood. Maybe there’s another reason why in a world of a billion people your aunt married mine, a thousand-year-old Viking witch who shares blood with a Crescent wolf.” The hybrid scrutinizes the tribrid quietly.

“You’re not trying to say there’s another soulmate fate thing going on in this family are you?”

“I’m not saying we’re soulmates or that you should even spend another day stuck with a girl you barely know. I don’t wanna be weird either, but I just want us to be close eventually…maybe like…sisters.”

Jordan tilts her head, offering a small smile. “I never had a sister so I might not be good at it.” Hope shrugs while raising her eyebrows. “Me either. But since neither of my parents will ever have more kids…this is my best chance.” Contemplative eyes take their time considering hopeful blue orbs.

“Jordan.”

The two girls turn their heads to discover Patrick standing a short distance away. Jordan drops Hope’s hand to walk forward a bit, narrowing her eyes in confusion. “Patrick? What are you doing here,” she questions. The vampire waves a vintage 35mm SLR camera around. “Um…you texted me. You told me to meet you way out here in old wolf country and like the great guy I am I…agreed to it,” he retorts. Jordan stares at him as the memory of Hope snooping in her bedroom enters the forefront of her mind. She spins around to confront the tribrid who gives her a guilty look.

* * *

 

“Why would you invade my privacy like that and invite him here? I mean seriously what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I wanted you to like me. And based on how much you text him I figured that you _really_ like him. You weren’t going to have fun down here and in my defense I didn’t know that he was a vampire.”

Jordan throws her arms out in frustration. “Well now you do, Hope. And we both know that your pack won’t just welcome him here with open arms,” she asserts. “I can always just leave,” Patrick calls while striding over to the pair. “I get that this was all just one big misunderstanding and I don’t need any more trouble.” Turning around Jordan gestures for him to stop his movements.

“I wanna talk before you leave so come with me first.”

Hope shakes her head frantically. “Jordan wait,” she pleads. A look of irritation is shot her way. “No. All this talk about sisterhood and you lied by omission. If you can do that over something so small, who knows what else you’re capable of.” Jordan shakes her head as Hope gazes at her with a wounded expression. She trudges over to Patrick and grabs his hand to escape the situation.

Melodic whistling carries throughout the area until a young man appears in their path. “What do we have here? A vampire in my woods.” His hands stay hidden behind his back. “He’s on his way out,” Jordan notifies. Patrick cautiously raises his free hand. “I’m not here to cause any trouble man.” The mop-headed werewolf looks on, visibly unmoved by the reassurance.

“Then why are you here, vampire? I take it the outsider invited you in, but it wasn’t her permission to give.”

Hope rushes to defend Jordan and Patrick. “I invited him, Dustin. But like they said, he’s leaving now so let it go alright?” Dustin brandishes a homemade stake from behind his back. “All wrong. I don’t expect you to agree seeing as you’re part vampire, Hope. But you know the rules, they’re not allowed around here. I need to make an example out of that monster.”

Jordan glares at him. “You’re the real monster if you feel the need to kill an innocent person. And just in case you forgot, I have magic that will keep you from getting anywhere close to doing that,” she states. Dustin growls as his irises flicker to gold. He suddenly lunges at them until Hope throws out a hand to hurl him backwards. Jordan looks up at Patrick beside her.

“You have to go now before this gets worse.”

The vampire nods before dashing out of sight while the roaring werewolf climbs to his feet. “You choose a vampire and a stranger over your own pack? You really are just a tribrid freak with loyalty to no one but your disgusting family of leeches. Look at what you did to your own mother. You made her one of them as soon as you came into the world.”

Hope balls her fists to maintain her self-control while Jordan practically growls as she storms on Dustin. She quickly clutches the hybrid’s bicep to hold her back. “Jordan! You _can’t_ give in.” Jordan snatches her arm back aggressively. “I don’t have any more patience when it comes to dealing with _arrogant_ wolves. I’ve taken enough crap from intolerant witches,” she spits.

Dustin smirks and marches forward until his body is abruptly knocked into a tree. Patrick appears standing in his place with narrowed eyes. “Sorry girls but I never back down from a fight. Beta wolf here is a real piece of work.” Jordan breathes heavily as she stares at him along with Hope. Dustin stays slumped against the tree while peering up at them angrily.

* * *

 

“Your great-great-grandmother was a very decorated warrior,” Freya remarks, handing a paper to Keelin. “She survived several pack wars and defended her territory up until her death.” The doctor puts her file shuffling on hold to grab the document before taking a look. “No wonder the Khans wanted her. I’m sure she fit right in with the whole maim, maim, conquer mentality.”

“Hm, not a fan I gather.”

Keelin peers up at Freya, tilting her head incredulously. “You know how much I hated the violence and the _Khans_ …are notorious for it. But then again, what pack isn’t?” Jess strolls into the room with a bottle of liquor. “I know. We’re all just one big pack of wild animals right? _But_ the upside seems to be our genetic superiority when it comes to tossing back whiskey.”

She sets two glasses down on the coffee table and pours each drink halfway. Then she offers one to Keelin who accepts it before lifting it up in cheers. “Uh…thanks.” Right after Jess extends the other one to Freya who quirks an eyebrow. “Oh yeah. My bad…” She trails off while taking a sip from the glass before gently stirring the alcohol.

“So I was wondering if you guys would like to stay for dinner. It’s not every day that a distant relative calls me out of the blue, tells me about her unborn hybrid baby, and actually turns up on my doorstep.” Keelin stares at Jess before looking to Freya who nods in confirmation. “She’s right. And…she’s technically family,” the witch points out. The wolf fixes her eyes to the host and licks her lips before smiling. “So, what are we having.” Jess grins back while subtly nodding her head.

* * *

 

A feral howl escapes Dustin as he charges at full speed to tackle Patrick. The vampire grabs the werewolf’s wrist and easily snaps his arm causing an anguished yelp to fill the air. He sweeps his opponent’s legs before planting a heavy boot to his chest, looking down on him impassively. “Just quit while you’re ahead. I’m stronger, faster, and clearly a lot more disciplined too.”

Dustin grimaces at Patrick until a round of shots fire off, hitting the vampire multiple times in the back. Jordan and Hope widen their eyes as he falls to the ground beside the injured werewolf. They quickly spot Mary in the distance, aiming a shotgun with a small group of kids spectating the scene from behind her. Hayley materializes before the girls in a blur of speed, displaying concern across her features. “Are you two alright,” she questions urgently. Jordan shakes her head while pushing past the hybrid to reach Patrick.

After dropping to her knees she carefully lifts his head into her lap. “Wooden…bullets,” the vampire groans. Mary finally lowers her weapon. “Wooden bullets with a little Crescent venom in ‘em,” she projects, unrepentant. A teary-eyed Jordan looks from the elder to Hayley and Hope, prompting the latter to roll up a sleeve as she tramps over. “Hope.” The tribrid ignores her mother and eases down onto her knees before offering her wrist to Patrick. “It’s my fault you’re here so just drink. My blood will cure you, just like my dad’s.” The vampire eyes her for a second but takes her arm and releases his fangs to bite into it. Jordan locks eyes with Hope, silently grateful. Hayley observes them for some time before glancing over at Mary who looks away, shaking her head.

* * *

 

Jess, Keelin, and Freya sit at the wooden dining table picking apart their lasagna and salad. “I reckon that now is the time to get my cliché questions out of the way. So how did you two meet? Witches don’t usually run in wolf circles, pun intended,” the former quips. She notices the couple looking at each other awkwardly and arches an eyebrow. “Uh oh. That bad huh?” Keelin gives her a less than thrilled expression. “The circumstances…uh, yeah she…kinda held me hostage and harvested my venom after the mother of her brother’s child kidnapped me to save their family.”

“And somehow Keelin was optimistic enough to stick around even after bargaining for her freedom,” Freya shamefully adds. She nods a bit while licking her lips. “She saw something in me that I couldn’t really see for myself and I’m grateful for that. She, um, she changed me and…falling in love with her was unexpected. Sometimes I still wonder how it was me of all people for her.”

Keelin provides a small smile. “Because even the broodiest, big bad Viking witch deserved a chance. And the rest is history,” she quips. Jess grins at the couple with intrigue. “I’d say your girls are lucky to have an example of true, unconditional love,” she remarks, earning sheepish looks. “Taking a less deeper approach, how’s the lasagna?”

“Not bad at all. I’m trying not to get carried away since I’m currently eating for two.”

“Good. It’s like one of three meals I can actually cook so please, get carried away.”

“Speaking of getting carried away…I didn’t want to bug you with all the questions before.”

“But…there’s something else on your mind right?”

Keelin rests her fork on her plate. “You care a lot about your culture and you’re practically noble by blood yet…you choose to live so far away from your pack. I guess I just don’t understand why,” she expresses. Jess wipes her mouth with a napkin before slightly leaning forward in her chair. “A werewolf is _what_ I am but there’s a complicated marriage between what I am and who I want to be.” She shakes her head. “Sierra wolves aren’t like the other original packs. They refuse to let their history and heritage, or their _people_ be erased by outsiders. And so they live in peace, fairly undetected by the rest of the population. Learning to be self-sufficient as a community was a great skill, but I just wanted to see the world and be on my own for a while.”

“So you left the pack,” Keelin finishes, nodding. Jess mimics the gesture while lowering her head from the empathetic gaze on her. “Hey, I get it. Don’t you find my career path a little strange for a wolf who grew up having her culture shoved down her throat? My family wasn’t exactly thrilled by my choice to turn away from the pack.”

Jess peers up at Keelin, mustering a half grin. “I’m still wondering how you managed to pull that one off. If it was me I probably would’ve taken a nasty tumble down the Northern Sierra Mountains, a total accident they’d say.” Keelin chuckles along with Freya before tilting her head. “Well, let me tell you all about it then,” she insists, grinning.

* * *

 

Lilith is mounted at a wide window, looking down on the dazzling city lights below. “To be in pursuit of a glorious new world. A long and perilous journey is guaranteed,” she utters. Elijah finishes draining a maid and carelessly drops her corpse. “Only _potentially_ as far as the original psychic and an original vampire are concerned. My god, how did I ever see a collection of pretentiously tailored suits as practical,” he ponders while tearing his dark jacket off. Lilith smirks to herself but it soon fades away as she spins around to face him.

“You make a good point about status but it’s not that easy, not while I’m still vulnerable.” 

“I don’t understand. You will feed until your strength is restored to its peak, and soon the simplicity of the journey will prove to be rather boring.”

Lilith juts her chin out before crossing the distance to meet Elijah. “Of course. But until then I can’t risk being trapped in my hell dimension. For five thousand years I’ve tried to anchor myself to the physical plane, but witches saw to my failure and misery. With your help I won’t ever have to worry about that again.” The vampire tilts his head. “What can I do to assist,” he inquires dutifully.

“I came here hoping to find something in the mayor’s possession but I’m still empty-handed. Long ago, a magical object was created by a psionic witch. A psychic by nature and a witch by blood, Bennett blood in particular. The object was a means to override the curse placed on me by the original coven but…unfortunately my ally was pushed too hard in the process.”

“Coincidentally I happen to have a lengthy history with the Bennett bloodline. However, I must say that I am wholly startled by your alliance with the kind you forsake.”

Lilith smoothly runs her hands over Elijah’s shoulders. “Well, you understand the complications with family. As decided by fate, neither of us are in control of those we share blood with. Believe me I was a skeptic until I realized he was a lost soul trapped between two worlds, the witches that feared his potential and the psychics that had no trust left to give. And since he happened to be my descendant, I felt it was up to me to embrace him once he pledged his loyalty.” She draws in closer. “All this time my only chance at freedom has repeatedly fallen into the wrong hands. I won’t relive that ever again, Elijah. So what you can do to _assist_ starts with keeping the suit for just a little while longer. I need to find a Bennett witch and the Cup of a Thousand Suns.”

* * *

 

At the compound, Hayley and Hope sit next to each other in the dining room. The mother silently observes her daughter looking everywhere but at her. “Nothing you can say will make me feel better or even worse after today. Jordan is still mad at me and I saw how disappointed Mary was. A big disappointment sums me up.” Hayley slowly shakes her head and reaches out to hold Hope’s hands. “You crossed a line with Jordan, kiddo. She has a right to feel the way that she does and it’s gonna take a little time but…I know that she’s willing to forgive,” she sighs out.

“There’s a lot of your Aunt Keelin in her I can tell you that. As for Mary, you know how she feels about vampires, especially your dad and his siblings. What she saw today only reminded her of that, and you distancing yourself from her hasn’t helped either.”

“How? I didn’t choose to leave New Orleans behind.”

Hayley tilts her head. “Hope, you don’t even call her Grandma anymore. There’s obviously a disconnect between you two,” she points out. Hope shrugs while shaking her head. “Because she isn’t my grandma. And if she hates a big part of who I am so much then why should she be,” she throws back.

“It’s a lot more complicated than that. You have a mother and a father who are both werewolf and vampire. Your witch aunt has a beautiful little girl with her werewolf soulmate and another one on the way. Your other aunt and an uncle are both head over heels for two supportive witches despite their vampirism. It’s beautiful that your reality is filled with so much love and acceptance, but the world doesn’t reflect that. All Mary knows is the violence and pain inflicted on her kind by another race of creatures. Her reality is not yours and you have to understand that, just like she has to learn to fully accept yours if she wants to maintain a relationship with you. Communication is your friend, Hope. Give it a try sometime.”

Hayley lifts a hand to gently cradle Hope’s cheek, receiving a rueful gaze in return. “I’m sorry, Mom. I haven’t made things easy for you either,” the teenager apologizes. “I know how much you miss your family, sweetheart. All you want is to feel like you truly belong somewhere in this great big world. Trust me, I get that.” Hope releases a faint breath as her shoulders relax.

* * *

 

A fancy TV illuminates the hotel suite while providing soothing ambient music. Freya lies snug in a thick comforter, staring at the ceiling as gentle fingers caress her belly. Keelin is positioned on her side, resting impossibly close to her wife with a thoughtful gaze. “So…what do you think of Jess, the beer-guzzling lone wolf.” Freya turns her head as she places a hand on top of the doctor’s.

“She seems…nice. A little rough around the edges but who am I to judge? She’s interesting.”

Keelin grins adorably while continuing her massage work. “I don’t know. I think I really like her. She reminds me of all the edgy women in my life.” Freya rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Edgy huh? I read more Mommy books than grimoires now and I’ve practically traded in witchcraft for its more harmless counterpart. Pretty soon I’ll be known as your desperate housewife, Dr. Mikaelson.”

A child-like giggle escapes Keelin’s lips. “You might have everyone else fooled by your delicate condition, but I know that as soon as this baby arrives you’ll be right back to channeling spirits,” she remarks, earning a smirk. “Or maybe…I kinda like the change of just being your devoted other half.” Freya leans in to press her lips against Keelin’s. A protective arm wraps around her frame as she drifts away in the loving contact. A shrill ringing sound cuts through the moment effectively separating the couple.

“Is it you or me this time,” Keelin asks. “Definitely me. It’s bound to be Mikaela checking in for her goodnight call,” Freya notifies confidently. Her wife rolls over to grab the correct phone from the nightstand and glances at the screen, confirming Jordan’s contact. “And she’s right on time.” She accepts the call and taps the speaker button while holding the phone up between them.

“Hi, Roo Roo.”

“Hi, Mommy!”

The two parents chuckle in response to their daughter’s cheery voice. “Did somebody have too much fun while I was gone today,” Keelin inquires curiously. “Me! Auntie Hayley took us to the bayou to see Miss Mary. I got to play with the other kids all day,” Mikaela informs, inciting an endeared smile from her mother. “That’s good, baby. Wanna talk to Mama before bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Hi, Mama! Are you and the baby okay?”

“We’re perfect now that we’re hearing about how much fun you had with Auntie Hayley.”

“When are you and Mommy coming home?”

Freya shares a look with Keelin. “Sometime tomorrow I think, maybe the day after. Will you be able to handle things until we get back,” she asks. “Of course I can, Mama.” The Viking laughs softly while tilting her head. “That’s my brave girl. Is Jordan around,” she inquires. “Yup. She’s right here. Wanna talk to her so I can go pick out a movie to watch,” Mikaela asks.

“Of course. You go ahead and have fun. Me and Mommy love you okay?”

“I love you too.”

There’s some shuffling on the line. “Hey, Aunt Freya.” Keelin frowns, instantly recognizing the somber tone. Freya gives her wife a knowing look. “Hey there. Is everything alright,” she questions. “I’m fine, just a little tired. And there’s nothing I need to talk about, Aunt Keelin,” Jordan states quickly. “Well I wasn’t going to interrogate you,” Keelin speaks up. “Just get some rest and talk to me tomorrow okay?”

“Sure thing. I wanted to call a friend before bed so I’m gonna go now. I love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetie. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The call ends and Keelin lowers the phone to the bed. “Something’s clearly up,” she concludes, tilting her head. Freya mirrors the doctor before licking her lips. “She’s a teenaged girl with the werewolf gene, she’s moody and broody sometimes. Focus on how well she’s been doing these last couple of months. We don’t need to ring the alarm every time she wants to be alone, Keelin.”

“I know, I know okay? But that inevitable curse hanging over her head will change everything. I can’t help but to anticipate the day it will become real.” An empathetic Freya reaches up to stroke Keelin’s cheek. After a moment she moves in to kiss her soulmate tenderly before resting their foreheads together.

* * *

 

A phone chimes relentlessly while buzzing on the bar counter. Jess saunters into the kitchen and picks the device up to look at the screen. Sighing, she taps it and flips her hair out of the way before pressing the phone to her ear. “Yeah?” A voice begins speaking on the other end of the line. “Don’t worry about anything. The plan is still on, tomorrow okay? I have her right where I want her.” She goes quiet for another moment as she listens again. “Got it. I promise that you won’t be disappointed. She’s everything we could ever hope for.” Jess gazes off into the distance, untiring.


	15. No Man Is An Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keelin and Freya are abducted by members of Jess's pack; Lilith attempts to locate the Cup of a Thousand Suns while Elijah tracks down Bennett blood; Sharon receives a surprise visit from Kayla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back with another chapter! This one is pretty straightforward since it's jumpstarting the upcoming events. A significant character makes a guest appearance but it is shortlived and unfortunate. Yes I am a terrible person I know. The TVD canon divergence also becomes apparent in this chapter, but all the differences will be revealed/explained over the course of the next couple of chapters. As always, I hope you enjoy this update :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Royal Deluxe - Dangerous: Jason shows up at Jess's bar.
> 
> 2) Valley Of Wolves - Out For Blood: Freya and Keelin are kidnapped by the Sierra wolves.
> 
> 3) Foreign Air - Better For It: Sharon looks at PI photos before Kayla shows up.
> 
> 4) VÉRITÉ - John My Beloved: Sharon and Kayla talk about their personal lives.
> 
> 5) Zayde Wolf - The Jungle: Keelin and Jason meet/fight.
> 
> 6) Fleurie - Turns You Into Stone: Sharon checks on Jamie in the basement; Lilith and Elijah celebrate one step closer to their goal.
> 
> 7) The National - Fake Empire: Keelin finds Jess at a diner.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

Three young children file into the dining room with Elijah in tow. The table separates them from Lilith whose eyes are shut in deep concentration. Suddenly, she exhales sharply and plants her palms to the table. “Tell me that you’ve brought good news. Apparently I’m still too weak for something as simple as remote viewing.” Her pointed gaze discovers a brown-haired girl, blonde-haired boy, and an older dark-haired boy lining up next to each other. Elijah grips the youngest child’s shoulders from behind. “I’ve brought very good news. Three adolescent orphans between the ages of ten and thirteen,” he presents. Lilith inspects the children briefly and lifts her chin in satisfaction. “You do know just what I like,” she remarks as she begins circling the table.

“Before you indulge, I’ve received word on one reclusive Abby Bennett. A few of my most persuasive allies will be arriving at her home shortly.”

“So you’ve tracked down the former Bennett witch turned hermit vampire. This doesn’t remedy my situation when I need Bennett _witch_ blood to activate that cup.”

Lilith stops beside the catatonic girl and begins petting her straight locks. “Yes, I’m aware,” Elijah retorts, nodding subtly. “And as you might recall there is currently no known witch left in the line. However, _blood_ binds us all to those who are family despite the pesky rules of Nature. So through the last known surviving Bennett we shall locate the rest of the kin unobserved by careless eyes.”

Riveted, Lilith tilts her head. “You’re using her blood as a beacon because my own wouldn’t establish a connection strong enough.” Her supposition is verified as Elijah lifts his chin quietly. “Hm. And here I was assuming you were far too distracted by our affairs to retain such vital information. I’m impressed.”

After letting go of the little boy’s shoulders Elijah approaches Lilith and grips her nape to pull her in. “Enjoy your meal. I’ll be back later with another tempting housemaid to clean it up.” Grinning wickedly, his lover closes the short distance between them. She bites his lip and drags her tongue across it to sample his potent blood. “Tempting indeed.” Lilith pulls back, supplying a lustful gaze. Smirking, Elijah removes her hand from his head and kisses it before backing away to leave.

* * *

 

A group of patrons talk amongst themselves while a steady kick/clap beat, and bluesy guitar riff pulsates over the loudspeakers.  A young man wearing a white thermal shirt and dark jeans marches his brown Timberland boots into the cozy bar, followed by a stone-faced companion. He’s about 6’2”, lean, and clean-shaven with buzzed hair while possessing features similar to Jess.

Jess is wiping the bar counter down when she glances up and notices the two men heading her way. Sighing dramatically, she straightens her back just as the man grips the edge of the countertop as his partner silently checks the establishment out. “Really? You’re popping up at my job now?” The man briefly puckers his lips with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess so.” He ogles the endless collection of alcohol behind the counter. “Thank God it’s not the most uptight place of employment.” Jess tilts her head, displaying a dead pan expression.

“I did what you told me to do okay?”

“Oh I know. I’ve got some wolves up at Tyrrell Park ready to escort our new cousin and her witch. You’ve done your part, Jess.”

Licking her lips, Jess gives an uncertain nod. “Jason. Don’t hurt her okay? It’s bad enough I’m already selling her out so don’t make it all for nothing by turning us into the enemy.” Jason grins widely while shaking his head. “Relax alright? This is a special case. I would never be stupid enough to ruin this, big sis.” He rests a hand on top of Jess’s before leaning in close.

“Now do me a favor and check in. The witch is looking a little suspicious of things.”

* * *

 

**MARINETTE, WISCONSIN.**

Abby carries a stack of logs, combat boots crunching on the hardened snow as she approaches the pile situated against an outdoor fireplace. After setting the stack down she dusts her hands off and looks out at the icy Green Bay. Although her vampirism won’t allow her to be at the mercy of the bitter chill, she finds a sense of peace within the blazing ritual. Like clockwork she reaches into her coat pocket to retrieve her phone. She unlocks the device and clicks on a shortcut, sighing as Bonnie’s smiling face appears on the screen.

 **“Hi, Mom. I know we haven’t seen each other or talked in a while…so I wanted to make you a video update. I finally finished my whirlwind summer tour, got a new ‘do and, I’m in college at Whitmore, where Grams taught. And this is my dorm! It’s huge right? Look.” The camera pans over to a large mahogany fireplace with a painting resting on top. “It even has a fireplace! I mean, what dorm has a fireplace?” The door opens in the background and the view is placed on Caroline and Elena entering the room. “Oh, here they are,” Bonnie exclaims. "Hey, guys! Say hi to my mom!” The two friends wave excitedly as they carry their shopping bags in. “Oh, hi,” they chime in surprise while chuckling. The camera draws in on them before Bonnie takes the spotlight once again, shaking her head as she waves them off.** **Elena stands right behind her, playfully waving a hand. “They’re…they’re planning me a welcome party. Just…just something lowkey.” Bonnie attempts to stifle some laughter while Elena quickly disappears from the background. “I miss you um…please come visit when you…when you get a chance.” She fixes her hair, suddenly coy with an optimistic smile. “I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you soon.” She presses three fingers to her lips and plants them on the screen.**

**“Bye!”**

The old video message ends and Abby sighs while gazing at the black screen regretfully.

In front of the house, a black luxury sedan circles the statue in the driveway before parking along the curb. Three doors open simultaneously as two men and a woman exit the car, all clad in dark peacoats. The woman nods simply, and the men race away together in a blur. She turns around slightly to extend a hand towards the statue and hurls it right through the front door with telekinesis. After giving the newly gaping entrance a once-over she begins trudging up the yard.

Around back, Abby hears a noise and whirls around to slam one of the men into a tree. The other assailant clutches her throat and thrusts his hand into her ribs. “I wouldn’t put up a fight if I were you, darling.” Abby struggles in his tight grip as the other man reappears. “Stop! We need her alive for the spell. What you do with her after is none of my business so take it up with Celine. You don’t want to get on Elijah’s bad side.” Abby’s neck is released, and the two men grab each of her arms before taking off with superspeed.

* * *

 

Freya and Keelin sightsee through a conservatory thronged with dense shrubbery. The former catches a glimpse of tiny creatures swimming around the lily pads floating in a murky pond. The latter finally peers up from her phone. “Jess is up for meeting us after her shift,” she notifies, tucking the device in her jacket. Her wife nods accordingly while looking at the scenery.

“We should get a souvenir for the girls. Jordan could use some more seeds.”

Keelin carefully observes Freya as they move along the pathway. “Sure. Is…something wrong though,” she inquires. The blonde casts her unresolved eyes on the wolf and shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just can’t help this feeling, like something is a little off. But it’s possible that my senses are just raging today.” Keelin subtly nods and takes Freya’s hand. “We’ll be home soon, safe and warm in our bed by tonight. I promise. And if anything were seriously wrong I’d be the first to know, super senses and all.” Her wife grins and halts their trek to capture her lips in a sweet kiss.

They pull apart to gaze at one another devotedly. Within seconds Keelin recognizes rhythmic footsteps drawing closer. She slowly turns her head to spot two men on the path ahead and Freya follows her line of vision soon after. “Keelin.” The werewolf begins tugging the witch in the opposite direction but comes to a screeching halt when she discovers two more men closing in on them. Her irises glow as her free hand morphs into a large paw just before she shoves one man into his partner. Her attackers fly into a few stone columns, shaking the structure until Freya holds it up with telekinesis. Keelin whips her head towards the other two men and marches on to confront them.

The first one throws a punch at her, but she dodges it before grabbing his wrist and fracturing his arm. He yelps out until she knees him in the stomach and tosses him into a pond. The final attacker swiftly grapples her and grunts as she challenges his technique with all her might. “You’re…strong.” Keelin frowns before kneeing the man in his crotch and forcing him backwards with a hard kick. Spinning around she catches another assailant seizing Freya from behind and jabbing a needle into her neck. “Freya!” As she hurries over to her wife three darts pierce her arm and chest. Shortly after the impact, her muscles begin deflating causing her to collapse on the ground.

* * *

 

Sharon sits at a table in the parlor, sorting through a collection of professional photographs featuring Dr. Lauren Ellis. In one of them the brunette is leaving Tulane Hospital fresh off a shift and in another she’s out perusing the French Market. Honey eyes roam over two more images, their subject changing clothes in her bedroom window and ending a late night at Rousseau’s with a couple of friends. Eventually they settle on the cat-eyed MD reading alone at a café. Sharon zones in on her haunting features, still unable to disregard her brief encounter with them one fateful night at Mirage.

The doorbell chimes snapping her out of an impending trance. Quickly, she collects the photographs before stuffing them into a manila envelope. The envelope is then tucked inside a worn book before she rises from her chair in pursuit of the front door. In no time she’s exiting the parlor room and crossing the foyer to discover the visitor waiting outside.

“Long time, no see. Are you up for some company?”

Kayla offers a warm smile while Sharon stares at her for a moment. “Um, I guess so.” The latter opens the door wider and the new arrival enters before peering up at an extravagant rose gold chandelier. “This is…the first time I've been in your castle. Kira would approve.” Sharon secures the door before moving ahead towards the parlor. “Well it doesn't really count if I'm not the Queen anymore. How is she by the way,” she queries thoughtfully. Kayla watches intently as her former superior closes several old books on the table. Her head tilts with curiosity.

"She's good. Listen, if you're busy with a new hobby I can just leave." Sharon spins around to face the acting consul with a shrug. "Not at all,” she retorts. “If you're showing up here without a call instead of sending one of your trusty _attendants_ , then it must be very important. I'm all ears." Kayla holds Sharon’s astute gaze while pressing her lips together.

* * *

 

Abby is seated at her vintage kitchen table guarded by the two intruders. In front of her, the green tablecloth is covered with tall candles and a large world map. She cringes as one vampire holds her sliced palm up, allowing her blood to drip on the thick paper. “What are you doing?” Her captors ignore her anxious inquiry as a spell is being conducted. “Invenire igitur omnes progeniti. Invenire igitur omnes progeniti.” Crimson lines arise from the small pool of blood, gradually extending towards separate locations. Abby watches idly until she starts to identify the most plausible goal of the spell. Mustering all her available strength she hastily escapes her enemies’ grasp and knocks a few candles onto the map, setting it ablaze.

The two vampires force her back against the chair as Celine grumbles in frustration. The witch waves a hand to extinguish the flames and turns her attention to Abby before angrily grabbing her face. Dark eyes discern the captive for a moment. “You're hiding something. What is it?” Abby gawks at Celine in distress. "I'm not hiding anything! What does Elijah want with my family?”

The latter tilts her head while slowly releasing the winded vampire. “He needs Bennett blood, preferably from a witch. You're the key to getting him that." On instinct she carefully reaches into Abby's coat pocket and pulls her phone out. Then she unlocks it and taps the screen unveiling the image of a smiling Bonnie. Tapping the screen once more the video file begins playing.

**“Hi, Mom. I know we haven’t seen each other or talked in a while…so I wanted to make you a video update. I finally finished my whirlwind summer tour, got a new ‘do and, I’m in college at Whitmore, where Grams taught. And this is my dorm! It’s huge right? Look.” The camera pans over to a large mahogany fireplace with a painting resting on top. “It even has a fireplace! I mean, what dorm has a fireplace?” The door opens in the background and the view is placed on Caroline and Elena entering the room. “Oh, here they are,” Bonnie exclaims. "Hey, guys! Say hi to my mom!” The two friends wave excitedly as they carry their shopping bags in. “Oh, hi,” they chime in surprise while chuckling. The camera draws in on them before Bonnie takes the spotlight once again, shaking her head as she waves them off.**

Celine pauses the video and pierces Abby's fretful eyes. "Call Elijah. He's going to want to hear about this."

* * *

 

"So...I know you've heard about..."

"Your official crowning as the Queen of New Orleans."

Kayla tilts her head. "I didn't ask for all this, Sharon." Sharon nods quickly. "I know you didn't. And it's fine, you really deserve it. I'm sure you won't have a problem surpassing my half year reign,” she states, coming closer to her former partner. "This city needs someone like you. I was never going to be that someone."

Kayla searches bright, genuine eyes. "That doesn't change the fact that I need you,” she admits. “Now I'm facing this new leadership over the council, choosing a new Attaché from the coven leaders, greater expectations. You think my only setting is Serious Kayla, but you have no idea how emotional I can get when I'm stressed out." Sharon smirks a little in response.

"Hey. You are more than capable of handling this. The faction leaders are behind you one-hundred percent. They respect your opinions and judgment because you were once a dependable coven leader, which means you know _exactly_ what to look for in a potential Attaché. Even I knew what to look for and I found that in no one better than you." Kayla smiles appreciatively as Sharon takes her hand.

"I have faith in the simple fact that you've got this. Let's be honest, you were running this city long before I screwed up. I might've been the nominal leader and the face of a prosperous NOLA, but you were always the true Queen keeping it afloat."

Kayla gives Sharon's hand a gentle squeeze and nods in short. "You're right, I can do this,” she reassures herself. Sharon nods in agreement. "You _will_ do this,” she affirms. Kayla scrunches her face up. "But while I'm here...I could use an opinion or two. I'm not sure if a cynical Ninth Ward Nguyen is more painless than a by-the-book French Quarter golden boy,” she remarks. "Well, I was once in your position with a feisty Algiers elder and a no-nonsense Tremé witch. We both know how that went so I guess this is my area of expertise.” The two women gaze at each other amusedly.

* * *

 

The two henchmen hold Abby securely in her chair as they all watch Celine pacing back and forth on the phone. "Your old acquaintance ruined the bloodline spell, Elijah." On the other end of the line Elijah sighs disappointedly. "Then I trust that you will see to another way of appeasing me,” he retorts evenly.

"Already ahead of you. You're not going to believe this but...the estranged daughter, Bonnie Bennett, she's still alive."

"What,” Abby breathes, eyes widened in disbelief.

"And how did this intriguing revelation come about? The brave Bonnie Bennett has been dead for ten-some-odd years. Mind you I have seen the evidence memorialized all over Mystic Falls, Virginia,” Elijah reclaims.

Celine stops pacing while shaking her head. "I know, it sounds crazy. But miraculous resurrections should be commonplace in your world by now. I don't know when it happened, let alone _how_ it happened but she's alive. I saw it myself in a vision through her mother's regret and grief. She was laughing and enjoying the company of a handsome man in a pub. Judging by the flashy ring on her left hand I'm concluding she's living a wonderful life _somewhere_. Track her down and you'll get exactly what you want." There's a deafening silence on the line prompting Celine to shoot a glance at a distraught Abby. "I suppose it would be inadvisable to leave any stone unturned. Your work there is done, Celine,” Elijah speaks up.

"And what about the vampire mother?"

"What about her?"

Celine eyes the two vampires and nods her head to them. "Well then. Happy I could help an old friend." She ends the call and tucks her phone into her peacoat. Abby shakes her head frantically as anger boils inside of her. "Don't hurt Bonnie. I will kill you and Elijah if either one of you..." One of the henchmen plunges a hand into the Bennett’s chest and yanks her heart out. Her mouth falls open and her head slowly drops as she desiccates. Celine shoves her gloved hands into her pockets and begins striding out of the kitchen.

"Torch the place so we can get out of here.”

* * *

 

Freya slowly blinks her heavy eyes open as her jarring skull rocks against an unknown barrier. She licks her dry lips and attempts to lift her head, soon meeting tinted glass within her view. She warily redirects her gaze to the two men manning the vehicle up front.

"Wha-where am I? Keelin."

Jess carefully places a hand on Freya's back while bringing a water bottle up to her lips. "Hey, it's okay. You need to drink this before you get dehydrated,” she insists. The exhausted blonde accepts the bottle as the werewolf helps her drink the water. After a sufficient amount is given Jess screws the top on the bottle and holds it while Freya tries to focus on her hazy form.

"What happened to me? Where's Keelin?"

Jess looks at Freya guiltily. "Everything is fine. Keelin is right behind us,” the former reassures. The latter blinks groggily. "I'm so tired, the baby,” she mutters, leaning forward. Jess grabs Freya securely and rests the witch across her lap. With a weighty sigh she gazes upon Freya’s gentle features, smoothing some golden locks out of her face while biting her lip nervously.

* * *

 

Sharon and Kayla laugh heartily while entering the parlor room. "I can't believe Mr. Danté Durand is your type,” the former teases. “Wait, actually I can. Deciding who's more strait-laced would probably be your foreplay with him." She walks around the table to plop down in an antique chair and starts massaging her forehead. "Stop...it,” the latter drawls.

“Quincy is my partner in crime, the father of my daughter. I really wanna work things out for Kira's sake. Even for Trey too considering things aren't great with his mother right now."

"And I admire you for that. Your family is lucky."

Kayla settles near the table and examines Sharon while folding her arms. "Hey. How are you really doing,” she inquires seriously. She waits as her companion removes the hand on her head to peer over at her and shrugs. "You've moved right into the infamous nightmare mansion without a drink in sight. And I see that you're deep in some mysterious research. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Sharon sighs out, shaking her head. "Honestly the so-called mysterious research is keeping the drinks out of sight and out of mind. I've been fine okay? Everything here is my inheritance and running away from it was never gonna erase the past." She pauses, raising her chin. "Believe it or not I've felt more at home here in a month than I have at my overpriced apartment in several. Reading and practicing alone is helping me find myself, Kayla. And the therapy has kept me clear-headed. I really needed this despite your doubts about me surviving another romantic implosion after sabotaging my own career." Kayla shakes her head and unfolds her arms as she comes over to crouch down by Sharon.

"I don't doubt you alright? I never did. You know that I'm always here, for anything. Just remember that if things ever get too quiet in this castle. Deal?"

Sharon licks her lips before nodding. "Deal,” she accepts. Kayla offers a satisfied smile just before her pocket buzzes. She reaches into it and stands up while pulling her phone out for a quick check. Within seconds she looks at her companion regretfully. "Looks like a Round Table meeting is necessary,” she announces.

"Then you better get going, Tremé Queen,” Sharon advises. Kayla bites her lip while carefully grasping the woman’s forearm. In response a hand is gently placed on top of her own. "Go ahead. Everything is quiet here, the good kind I swear." Kayla inspects Sharon momentarily before nodding and turning to walk away. The former Queen drops her hand on her forearm, silently stroking it as she watches her successor stride down the path to revolution.

* * *

 

Keelin slowly lifts her head, instantly finding an immovable Jason some distance away. As the man stares at her she tiredly rolls her neck, sucking in a sharp breath as she realizes her arms are restricted by chains on either side. "Nothing like a few poison darts to get the day started,” she quips, tugging on the chains before swallowing.

"What did you do to my wife?"

"Not a thing. She's safe so don't you worry...cuz."

Keelin perks up at the word choice. "You're Jess's brother,” she surmises. Jason lets go of the hand support attached to the ceiling and tramps over to stand in front of his captive. "Welcome to the family, it's gonna be one hell of a ride." Keelin furrows her brows while scrutinizing him. "Look, I don't know what kind of sketchy stuff you guys are up to but attacking my real family means drawing a line. Who are you, really?"

Jason tilts his head. "Oh we're descended from the same bloodline, that much is true. I bet Jess lied about everything else though. When she gets desperate, she's really desperate." Keelin shakes her head wildly. "So what do you want with me then? If you even think about harming Freya or the baby..."

"Hey, nobody wants to harm you or your witchy wife or the hybrid baby alright? You see, it's actually the opposite. You're special. And because of that I will be celebrated as a true hero for bringing the Messiah home."

"What are you talking about?"

"Save the existential questions for an elder. For now, you just sit tight Dr. Wolf."

Jason grabs Keelin’s chin condescendingly, deliberately stirring her palpable frustration. The captive growls as she thrusts an arm out, freeing it from the chain and striking her captor in the face. Taken by surprise Jason falls to the floor and holds his face as Keelin tries to steady her breathing. He looks at the blood on his fingers before peering up at her with irritation. After climbing to his feet he steps to her, blood trailing from his eyebrow. "I heard about you going down with a good fight. I just couldn't believe that a sellout like you had any natural instinct left."

Keelin grits her teeth as she yanks her other arm free before pouncing on Jason. The male wolf grips his cousin’s biceps and expertly tosses her into the back doors of the cargo truck.

 

In the vehicle ahead, Freya gasps as her glassy eyes pop open. Jess comfortingly rubs the blonde’s arm, suddenly alarmed. "Freya. What's wrong,” she questions. "My back,” Freya mutters, wincing. Jess promptly begins massaging the witch’s lower back. "We're about to make a stop okay,” she reassures.

 

Back in the cargo truck, Keelin jabs Jason in the face repeatedly until he aggressively tackles her to the floor. He straddles her while laying relentless punches into her unguarded face. After finding an opening she presses her thumbs into his eyes causing him to bark painfully. Then she gains enough momentum to slam his head onto the floor.

"What the hell,” a disembodied voice chirps.

"I think we need to pull over and check the cargo now,” another one asserts. Keelin straddles Jason and grips his neck while easing her weight onto him. Her irises shift to gold as she cringes, the throbbing of her bloody nose and busted lip slipping from her mind. Jason groans as he musters all his strength to grab onto Keelin's neck while returning her fierce glare.

 

In the vehicle ahead, Freya springs upright and holds her stomach breathlessly. Jess is beside her immediately with concern. "Freya,” she exclaims. "It's...Keelin,” Freya whispers, still disoriented. Jess raises her eyebrows while attempting to decipher the Viking’s words. As a familiar sensation causes every nerve in her body to tremble she hastily turns to bang on the driver's seat.

"Pull over. _Now_."

 

In the cargo truck, the back doors open allowing harsh light to shine in on Keelin and Jason's wrestling forms. "What the hell is going on." A short man hops in and quickly grabs the female wolf by the biceps to lug her out of the truck. As the captive struggles against the other wolf her eyes dart around an abandoned motel lot. Jess exits the back of a large white F150 before helping Freya down. Keelin's face softens as she instantly locks eyes with her soulmate, but Jess is horrified by the blood on the doctor’s face and shirt.

"Keelin. What happened?"

"You care now,” Keelin bites, scowling at her.

Jess shuts her mouth until she spots Jason angrily marching from around the cargo truck. She swiftly intercepts her bruised and bloody mess of a brother before he can come any closer to Keelin. "What the hell are you doing,” she questions harshly. “Huh? You promised me that you wouldn't hurt her!" Jason attempts to dodge Jess’s strict gaze, but she moves her head to block him. Agitated, he wipes at his nose before finally settling his dark eyes on her.

"Yeah well that changed when I realized she's a raging bitch instead of Werewolf Jesus."

Jess collides her hand with Jason’s face before frowning. "She's family, Jace." She shakes her head while backing away. "I knew you could be a selfish ass sometimes, but I never thought you would stoop this low. And here I am right with you. For what, Jason?" Her booming voice hits Jason head on as he rearranges his jaw, looking at her sideways. He spits out some blood to cut their intense gaze short and Jess spins around to discover several pairs of eyes watching. Her own shameful orbs fall on Keelin. "I'm so sorry. And I owe you a very long explanation." Keelin rubs at her aching neck, leering at Jess while being released by the man holding her.

* * *

 

**DALLAS, TEXAS.**

"I'm okay,” Freya rasps, lying in a hotel bed. “The Lobelia wore off so what about you?" A soft kiss is pressed to the Viking’s forehead as Keelin continues petting her hair and shaking her head with a small smile. "I'm completely healed, thanks to our mighty blessing." Freya supplies a tired grin before regarding Jess standing near a table awkwardly. Keelin bites her lip before turning away from her wife’s bedside to do the same. "So why did you do it,” she questions, shaking her head with a shrug. “Lie to me, set me up to be kidnapped?" Jess quickly unfolds her arms with pleading eyes.

"Keelin."

"You put my family in potential danger. That's the worst thing you could ever do for future reference."

"I never wanted to put you or anyone you love in danger. I was just so caught up in my own drama that I actually let my douche of a brother manipulate me. Everything I shared with you is real, Keelin. There were no lies."

Keelin examines Jess for a moment. "Then explain it to me,” she demands. “What was your brother talking about? I'm the Messiah, Werewolf Jesus. When you threw out the same title yesterday I didn't exactly take it seriously." Her cousin steps forward. "Our bloodline is distinguished among my people. We’re noble, whatever you want to call it. But to take it a step further some wolves might carry the belief that you're part of a legend, at least my brother thinks so. I mean you kinda fit the mumbo jumbo narrative. A wolf not born into the pack but spiritually bound, finding their way to us. One unlike any warrior we've ever seen and the source of a new era of change by magical means."

"So because I'm a survivor of genocide, stronger than you, and the mother of hybrids I'm worth kidnapping in broad daylight to fulfill some vague prophecy?"

"You don't have to believe it, I'm not even sure that I do. It still doesn't change the fact that the pack would thrive under your leadership. That's why Jason wanted to get you there on his terms. Don't hold that against the people who had nothing to do with it." 

"Well first impressions tend to stick,” Freya pipes up. “Assuming this is even worth remembering by tomorrow I'm still curious about what was in it for you. You left your pack so why would you care about delivering their savior.”

Jess stares at the couple while keeping her emotions on full display. "I realized that life meant a whole lot of nothing without the people who mattered the most. I wanted back in. After Keelin reached out wanting to know more about her heritage, Jason convinced me that this was the way to please our pack. I didn't wanna risk missing an opportunity, so it seemed doable at the time. It's not an excuse though and I'm beyond sorry for even considering it." She finally relieves herself of a burdensome breath as Freya and Keelin scrutinize her quietly.

* * *

 

**_“When I told you that I’ve been in hell I meant psychologically, emotionally. Every soul here is restless and desperate to escape the ending they just know they don’t deserve. What makes my skin crawl might not have the same effect on the next Wanderer. We all have our own different versions of hell.”_ **

**_Sharon licks her lips. “What is your version,” she asks. Lo waits for a moment. “Having nothing worthwhile to my name, a severe lack of control over my fate. Being a failure, a subordinate. Enduring a separation across realms from you,” she admits, pausing. “I’m forced to stay in this great big mansion all alone for eternity, Sharon. When I poof away it’s to gain some sense of freedom. Out there are thousands, millions of tortured souls roaming this plane in misery. Each time I leave these walls I run the risk of being devoured, a fate worse than this, but at least I’m not alone.” Sharon stares at Lo sullenly._ **

In a shadowy cellar, Sharon carefully opens a black coffin to reveal Jamie lying inside. There’s a pasty hue to his skin and the golden dagger is secured within his chest. Sharon tilts her head while inspecting his vulnerable form. "I've looked through Egyptian texts, Vedic scriptures, scrolls from Ancient China. The Greek Age, the Roman Empire, Byzantine, dark magic accounts from early Nubian civilizations. I still can't seem to find a single thing on resurrecting a soul from the Twilight Dimension, but I know there's a way out there."

**_Sharon looks at the shiny dagger in her possession for a moment. “Then you know I can’t let you go,” she states, shaking her own head. “I’ll never stop trying to save you as long as I know there’s still a chance for your salvation.” Lo bathes her in a vulnerable gaze. “As hard as I’ve tried…I can’t let you go either.” Sharon offers a bittersweet smile before her body is flung into a red chair._ **

**_“Take a seat and watch the show, Miss Vance. I’ve made it a point to keep hell out of my home.” Lo whirls around to find Jamie striding towards them with a grimace. Her eyes shift to total darkness as she races over to him, but he throws out a hand, lifting her host body midair. “I’m afraid I’ve grown very attached to the help. I’m going to need her body intact.”_ **

**_With a simple thrust of his hand Jamie expels a black mist from Violeta’s body, watching as it dissipates in the air before the housekeeper plummets. “No! Lo,” Sharon yells out in horror. She struggles in the chair as Jamie turns his attention to her. “You know, this is that terrible dependency I warned you about,” the psychic states, marching over._ **

Sharon traces a finger down the handle of the golden dagger before resting her hand on Jamie's cold chest.

"And you're gonna help me find it."

* * *

 

Elijah pushes the silver doors open to find a romantic atmosphere awaiting him. Two plates of steak and roasted vegetables, another plate of fresh fruit, two glasses of dark wine, silverware on thick cloths, and an arrangement of roses are all set out on the table. The expanse of the dining room is candlelit, sparking tiny flames in brown irises.

"Elijah."

Elijah settles his eyes on Lilith rising from her chair. "I wasn't aware of a celebration tonight,” he remarks. His lover smirks deviously while swaying over to him. "Because I wanted to surprise you. I have some very good news to share." She runs her hand up his chest to wrap an arm around his shoulder. In response he places a hand on the small of her back while caressing her bicep snaked around his neck.

"Then allow me to share mine first, if you please." 

"Mm, please do."

Elijah smirks, narrowing his darkened eyes. "As you know the newly departed Abby Bennett had a daughter whom I was once acquainted with. The ever-insightful witch Celine was able to uncover a rather fascinating truth. Despite succumbing to a tragic death eleven years ago, Bonnie Bennett is supposedly still very much alive and well today." Lilith tilts her head attentively as the vampire continues. "I've enlisted the most efficient private agents and begun the thorough process of locating her whereabouts. It should be done in a matter of days if not hours quite frankly."

Pleased, Lilith glides her fingers up Elijah's nape to rake them through his hair. "Confidence is quite sexy on you, Elijah. I have to admit that I was somewhat lacking that today. It was insecurity blocking my abilities rather than physical weakness. But once I worked past the debilitating thoughts I discovered something precious too. The Cup of a Thousand Suns is in Norway." She exhales softly. "I couldn't get a clear enough vision, however, which means it's locked away magically or buried deep all the same." Elijah removes her arm from his shoulder and clasps their fingers together.

"I must confess something. As I wandered through the Lord Mayor's vast collection I couldn't help but to ruminate on the significance of this...Cup of a Thousand Suns. It sparked something familiar, a recollection of the past. Centuries ago my iron-hearted aunt betrayed and poisoned a gifted witch for that very object. She was driven by envy, considerable paranoia regarding my sister's negligible affections and loyalty to her. If this ancient tragedy and your vision of my mother country is...confirmation that dear Aunt Dahlia was the very last witch in possession of the cup..." He holds his lover’s burning gaze. "Then perhaps I could see to uncovering its precise location with a little help from family."

Lilith is even more delighted by her stroke of luck as she grins wickedly. "So our road to victory truly begins." She frees both hands to cup Elijah's cheeks and lunges into a passionate kiss. She abruptly snatches his tie from his neck and rips his shirt open sending buttons flying in opposite directions. Elijah rapidly spins Lilith around and attaches his lips to her neck. He works his way down the length of skin and rips the back of her dress as she bites her bottom lip in ecstasy.

* * *

 

Some patrons are quietly spread out around a simple, clean diner. Two men sit at the counter chattering mindlessly, a cute family of three chuckle about something in a red booth, and two booths down an old woman reads the paper alone while a server collects dishes nearby. Jess sits in another section, solemnly stirring her cup of coffee as a figure suddenly moves within her periphery. She peers up, surprised to see the culprit slipping into the opposite side of the booth. "Just a heads up, the coffee here is the strongest stuff in Dallas,” Keelin notifies.

"I thought you would want me as far away as possible. How did you find me?"

"I made a home here for a little while before permanently moving to Austin. And...despite the whole kidnapping situation we're kinda still family. I just had a feeling you'd be here."

Jess sighs out and tiredly shakes her head before shrugging. "Being related doesn't make us family. What I did today proved that,” she utters defeatedly. Keelin sucks her lips in while briefly flitting her eyes down. "What you did today...well you screwed up royally so let's not beat around the bush about it." Jess dips her head a bit to stare into her coffee mug and Keelin tilts her head, examining the woman across from her. "But that doesn't change how good it felt to get to know another part of who I am. I want to know you Jess, who you really are. Because when push comes to shove you're family, and family is all I've got."

Jess slowly looks up at Keelin and offers a bittersweet smile. "Has anyone ever told you that you're way too lenient on captivity? How can you be so chill and forgiving,” she questions, disbelieving. Her cousin returns the tentative expression before shrugging. "Maybe I'm crazy but I believe in seeing the good in people, just about as much as I believe in second chances,” she explains. “No one's perfect and I have no room to judge as made evident by my brawl with your little brother.”

"You fought for your family and spared the enemy. I'd say it doesn't get much more perfect than that. But...where does this complicated mess leave us now?"

Keelin maintains Jess's uncertain gaze for a few moments. "I get that you were just trying to find a way back to your family. I probably would've done anything in your position, so I won't hold that against you or them. But if I ever decide that it's in my best interest to meet the rest of the pack, it will be on my terms,” she declares, shaking her head. "Nobody else's." Jess nods in agreement before sliding her hands into her lap.

"Of course,” she responds.

Keelin licks her lips. "As for where we stand, I think we should just let it all play out and see how it goes. I'm willing to keep in contact if that's what you want too,” she concludes. "I want that, if it's really okay with you and Freya,” Jess replies, earning a nod of assurance. "It's more than okay. I remember what it's like to be the outsider all alone in the world so, this way you'll have me if no one else." Jess looks down at her cup before offering a more optimistic smile to Keelin.


	16. Trust In God And Keep Your Powder Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya searches for the Cup of a Thousand Suns while Hayley attempts to mend fences between Hope and Jordan; Keelin enlists Lauren's help to confirm the Sierra prophecy; Sharon presses Jamie for information on the Twilight Dimension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back with an update! This chapter is pretty lowkey but there is a special guest appearance and some more background on The Sandman. Next one centers on our characters across the pond (including a certain Bennett witch) and is definitely pivotal. As always, I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Will Church - Place We Belong: Hayley finds Freya attempting a locator spell.
> 
> 2) Katie Garfield - Hungry For You: Bridget surprises Rebekah.
> 
> 3) Welshly Arms - Who We Are: Sharon visits Jamie for help; Keelin talks to Lauren about the Sierra prophecy.
> 
> 4) Will Champlin - Shake It Up: Jordan and Hope shop at Jardin Gris; Sharon gives Jamie an ultimatum.
> 
> 5) Winter Aid - Penny Sweets: Mikaela does a flower renewal spell for Keelin and Lauren; Jordan and Hope leave Jardin Gris.
> 
> 6) Unknown Neighbour - Island: Keelin talks to Mikaela before Lauren confirms the Sierra prophecy.
> 
> 7) Florence + The Machine - Seven Devils: Jamie tells Sharon about the Cup of a Thousand Suns.
> 
> 8) nilu - Hollow Hands: Bridget contacts Dahlia for Freya.
> 
> 9) Dizzy - Stars And Moons: Freya tells Keelin about Dahlia.
> 
> 10) Modeselektor - Wealth: Bridget and Rebekah party at a nightclub.
> 
> 11) Valerie Broussard - Hold On To Me: Sharon talks to Lo; Jordan and Hayley talk about Hope. Freya talks to Keelin before calling Elijah. 
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

**_Sahara Desert, 10 th Century._ **

**_A bruised and bloody Veda limps through the sand dunes like a war-torn woman. Her bronze skin is cracked, raven locks caked with dirt, and garments tattered to near shreds. Not a single spark lives within her usually soulful eyes. Her restless legs give out and she stumbles to the ground, body slowly shutting down due to debilitating thirst. Heaving a ragged breath she rests her chin on her hand._ **

**_She knows that she can’t go on in this heat for much longer. As her eyelids grow heavier, a gleam in the sand captures her waning attention. A fierce wind blows past uncovering a significant portion of a golden chalice. Veda widens her eyes at the object, feeling a potent energy radiating from it. Ignoring the ache in her lungs she strains to reach forward and finally grasps her prize. In an instant her bones reignite with magic, every cell in her blood quickened. The Cup of a Thousand Suns emits a shimmery glow that reflects within Veda’s awestricken irises._ **

* * *

 

Hayley waltzes into the study finding none other than Freya hovering over a large map. “Skipping breakfast and going straight to work not even forty-eight hours after being kidnapped by wolves,” the former remarks. The latter continues examining the blood trail outlining the shape of Norway. “I had a good night’s sleep at Keelin’s request so now I’m ready to help Elijah. I’ve already tried a locator spell using my blood and Dahlia’s ashes but there’s still nothing.” She finally peers up at the brunette standing across from her.

“I can’t stop until I’m at least one step closer to figuring out where Dahlia buried the cup. This could be my only chance to reunite our family.”

“I get it and I’m behind you on fixing this. But everything resting on a cup that two ancient witches fought to the death over is just a _little_ risky right?”

Freya straightens up with a shrug. “Well, I suppose it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Six years ago I promised that I would bring my family together again. Now I’m finally gonna make that happen. It’s time, Hayley.” Hayley scrutinizes the blonde before nodding accordingly. “Then…what can I do to actually help your noble cause? I promised Keelin that I wouldn’t let you slip back into your old selfless ways.” Freya gives an understanding nod and licks her lips. “I could use some more herbs to strengthen the magic. I think I’ll try using Veda’s blood for another locator spell in the meantime.” Hayley nods affirmatively. “Magical herbs for witch-GPS. Got it.” She spins around and heads towards the exit.

“Hayley.”

The hybrid pauses to refix her position. “Thank you,” Freya offers. Hayley tilts her head slightly. “It’s what family does. We fight for each other always,” she affirms, earning an appreciative grin. “Plus you might’ve just given two girls the perfect way to mend fences.” After summoning her own smirk she backs away to swiftly file out of the study. Freya arches a questioning brow.

* * *

 

**MAYFAIR, LONDON, ENGLAND.**

Rebekah stands in a high-end bedroom suite as she removes her dangling diamond earrings. The warmth of a body encloses her and soon after the sequined straps of her wine-colored gown are peeled off her shoulders. She grins when a pair of gentle lips are pressed to the exposed skin of her back. “How will I ever find the perfect dress when you’re constantly stripping them all off?”

Rotating, she discovers Bridget offering a Japanese-styled satin robe. “You started the clothing wars remember,” the witch retorts, smirking. “ _And_ you made me spend an entire afternoon shopping on four busy streets. I’d say it’s time to have it my way so…your lovely _dunch_ awaits.” Rebekah furrows her brows with amusement while sliding her arms through the sleeves.

“A lovely dunch is it?”

“Mhm. I think you’ll be very satisfied with what I’ve cooked up.”

Bridget grasps Rebekah’s hand and leads her to the living room where a large, stainless steel cloche rests on a circular, glass table. She lifts the cover to unveil a deep olive bottle of champagne, a pair of gold strappy heels, and a pair of white gold triangular earrings. “I took the liberty of planning date night. Clive Christian No. 1, a designer jumpsuit, and two tickets to the hottest club in the city. The champagne is to encourage you to relax a bit until then. _Unless_ you’re refusing to give up on your fashion emergency.” Rebekah redirects her eyes from the gifts on the plate to Bridget.

“Strolling around Carnaby Street can wait. I’m quite famished.”

With an excited smirk, Rebekah rockets Bridget into the white chair across the room and straddles her lap. The witch recovers with a smug grin and cradles the vampire’s face as she slowly captures her lips. Rebekah slides her hands down Bridget’s sides and tugs her white Henley upwards before tossing it aside. Then she cups her girlfriend’s cheeks to reclaim her eager lips.

* * *

 

A knock sounds at the door but Jordan is too focused on grinding herbs in a mortar to respond. The door slowly cracks open to reveal Hayley who watches the girl working vigorously for a moment. “Hey kid,” she speaks up. Jordan abruptly halts her actions and whips her head towards the voice. “Oh hey,” she greets, sheepish. “Sorry, I was kinda moving on autopilot.” Hayley supplies a warm grin before opening the door wider to enter. “Well, you look like you know what you’re doing there. Any concoctions I should be worried about,” she questions.

Jordan shakes her head, providing an amused grin as she sets the pestle down on her desk. “Nope. Just a regular medicinal project I swear. Aunt Freya and Bridget gave me some old healing recipes to practice.” Hayley nods before sucking her bottom lip in. “Listen, Freya is pretty busy with some witch business and I swore to your Alpha of an aunt that I would keep her from going overboard. So, I was hoping you could pick up the necessary supplies, funky herbs.” She rocks her head animatedly. “Of course it’s an all-expenses paid trip complete with a set of keys.”

“I’m in,” Jordan states, nodding enthusiastically. “But why am I expecting a catch?” Hayley releases a sigh. “Because there is one depending on whether you’re a glass half full or half empty type of girl,” she replies. The teenager gives a slow nod before slumping back in her chair. “You want Hope to tag along.”

“It’s completely up to you, Jordan. I know you two have had a rough start, but I really do think it can be resolved. You both could benefit from a little bonding.”

“I’m not mad at her. I just don’t know if we see things the same way. She almost…”

“Made the guy you like target practice for her shotgun-wielding great-grandmother? I haven’t let her all the way off the hook just yet, believe me.”

Hayley shakes her head. “I don’t know if you fully grasp this but she’s just like you. A powerful witch facing a werewolf gene, a teenaged girl, a creative kid. Mix that up with the unstable vampire blood courtesy of her _stubborn_ father and it could all go horribly wrong,” she sighs out as Jordan tilts her head empathetically. “She’s fragile, sensitive. All actions have consequences, but I hope that this mistake won’t cost her a shot at knowing you. You can never have enough family.” Jordan licks her lips while considering the new perspective.

* * *

 

Jamie sits against the wall of a stark white space, legs extended out in front of him as Sharon manifests in a blur. He raises a hand to the harsh light, squinting at her figure gradually coming into focus. “Ah, my lovely prison guard here to keep me company.” He wearily drops his hand to gaze at her with awareness.

“I need you.”

“I assume you are referring to my abundance of funds. What is the plan for today? Allocating resources, preserving my other properties, or purchasing a tawdry Florida beach house to keep up the illusion of my uneventful travels?”

“After careful consideration I’ve decided that I need your help for real this time. I want to resurrect a soul from the Twilight Dimension.”

Jamie scoffs while furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief. “Downright absurdity. It cannot be done and _hasn’t_ in thousands of years,” he affirms. “I don’t care,” Sharon replies. “Every great spell was seen as unachievable madness until it became a remarkable feat for one determined witch. Or maybe there comes a boundary pushed further at the hands of a miracle-working psychic. Either way I’m orchestrating this one and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Jamie shakes his head irritatedly. “All of this is about an emotionless demon. You’re willing to damn us all, the _living_ , for one twisted soul that has never benefitted your existence in the slightest,” he states with disdain. Sharon takes a few steps closer. “It’s about me and the happiness I was promised. So I can just keep you like this if I find no use for you, Jamie. I’m sure you’ve been enjoying this little vacation lying on your back with a dagger in your chest.” Jamie chuckles humorlessly. “Yes, indeed you’ve been clever. I especially admire the mental prison used to taunt me as my body lies in an endlessly pathetic position. However, if your threat rung true then you would be obsessing over a means to kill me rather than longing for a dead vampire.” Sharon tilts her head mockingly.

“Good point. How _did_ you achieve your immortality, Mr. Sandman?”

“I’m afraid that is a tale for another time, Miss Vance.”

“I think it’s fair to say that we both have plenty of time on our hands. I have nowhere to go so how about you?”

Jamie fixes his jaw with annoyance.

* * *

 

Mikaela is perched on a leather couch while flipping through a nature book. Several tall shelves stand behind her, extending down a classic, grand hall. Keelin and Lauren lean against the balcony overlooking the antiquated staircase. “Jess said that the Sierra wolves might believe I’m the one to fulfill an old prophecy,” the former reveals.

“What kind of prophecy,” the latter asks, tilting her head in interest.

Keelin folds her arms while sighing. “One where I save the day with my magical hybrids. I could be the powerful wolf destined to bring change, a fierce warrior bonded to the Wade clan by blood and to the Sierra by spirit.” She bites her lip while shaking her head. “If Jason and Jess are right, the pack wants me to be their leader. I don’t know what to do with that.” Lauren raises her brows.

“Well that’s…heavy. Look, I wish I could be useful somehow, but I only understand the pack from a biological angle. That’s by the grace and generosity of a friend who’s still firmly against providing more than her own biology for my adaptation studies. The Sierra are very protective of their culture, Plucky. I couldn’t even tell you where their settlement is.”

“I want to take Jess’s word for it, I really do okay. But I just don’t trust her yet. Maybe your friend could help me understand this. _Please_.”

Lauren throws her head back, sighing exasperatedly. “Ugh, you know I just can’t say no to you when you’re desperate.” She locks eyes with her beseeching friend. “Okay. I will try to get in touch with her, but I can’t promise that you’ll get the answers you’re looking for.” Keelin nods in acceptance and rubs at her neck anxiously.

* * *

 

“How could giving such sensitive information away be beneficial to me?”

“Perhaps I could loosen your chains a bit. Your call.”

Jamie leans his head back with a dubious sigh. “Oh I refuse to give you anything. As far as this awful attempt at bargaining goes we are officially done,” he declares. Sharon lowers her chin with an impatient glare. “We’re not done until I say so.” She vanishes in thin air as the white room begins fading to darkness. Jamie frantically sits up and looks around.

“Sharon?”

Numerous shadows creep near him but suddenly halt as an abnormally lanky figure moves ahead of them. Jamie gapes in terror and shakes his head as his heartrate climbs. “Sharon,” he screeches. In the physical world, Sharon stands above Jamie’s body lying in his open coffin. She looks down upon him vacantly.

* * *

 

“Incendia.”

A formation of torches brighten the dark cellar revealing a lone mahogany casket. Hope treads over to it and runs her fingers along the polished wood before cautiously lifting the door. Inside, Veda’s body lies peacefully frozen in time. The tribrid can’t stop herself from staring at the ancient witch in pure fascination.

“Morbid curiosity. I had that at thirteen too.”

Hope quickly shuts the casket and whirls around to find Jordan standing at a distance. “Still snooping I see,” the latter remarks. The former presents a regretful expression. “Jordan…” A jangling keychain interrupts her explanation. “Aunt Freya needs some more herbs. So you can stay down here doing the creepy Nancy Drew thing or take a little trip to Jardin Gris with me.”

Jordan holds up the set of keys as Hope quickly nods, albeit caught off guard by the invitation. “Shopping trip it is.” She watches as the older girl spins on her heels and rushes to speak up. “Shouldn’t it be weird that Aunt Freya is preserving a body down here?” Jordan halts to face Hope with a shrug. “I don’t know, should it? I’ve seen stranger things at this point,” she concludes.

“Fair enough.”

“Veda means a lot to her. She’s done plenty of bad things, but she also gave Aunt Freya hope during a dark time.”

“Forgiveness for even the most messed up situations is kind of a Mikaelson family thing.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m learning that,” Jordan replies. “Come on, we should get going.” She turns to lead the way out of the cellar and Hope lowers her head a little before following.

* * *

 

Birds chatter amongst the trees as Keelin watches over Mikaela exploring the scenic garden below. Lauren joins her on the balcony with a phone in hand. “Got a message back but just as I expected, she doesn’t want to get into Sierra folktales.” Keelin turns to face her incredulously. “Not even for a werewolf of noble blood,” she questions, frowning. Lauren raises a cautious hand.

“Hey. I played the royal bloodline card to a T, but _she_ is not budging. I told you how it is for the pack.”

Keelin purses her lips before leaning her head to the side in thought. She catches sight of Mikaela holding a wilted flower up in her palm to whisper to it. As an idea comes to life in her mind she diverts her attention back to her friend. “I’m the wolf that will bring a new era of change by magical means according to Jess. So why don’t I prove that?” Lauren quirks an eyebrow at Keelin.

* * *

 

At Jardin Gris, Jordan scours the glass jars of herbs on a shelf situated against the purple wall. “Lavender, Sage…Mandrake. What am I forgetting,” she queries. Behind her, Hope holds a phone up to her eyes. “Moonwort, Yew Flower, Wormwood, Ripple Weed, Angelica Root, White Muskroot, Sandalwood, and Acacia.” Jordan rolls her stiff neck while continuing the search for herbs.

“So basically she wants us to buy the whole store. Another Mikaelson thing?”

Hope tucks the phone into her satin bomber jacket. “Buying out valuable property? Sure. Hoarding herbs? More of a pregnant Aunt Freya thing,” she retorts. Chuckling, Jordan grabs several jars and tucks them into her arm before wheeling around to set them on the checkout counter. Rachel smiles as she begins ringing the items up quickly. Hope appears beside Jordan and places four more jars there causing the hybrid to frown.

“What are those?”

“Rosemary, Thyme, Mugwort, and Witch Hazel. I noticed them on your personal list, and you got distracted by Aunt Freya’s so…”

Jordan stares at Hope speechlessly before licking her lips. “Thanks,” she utters. The younger girl half smiles. “I should probably get a smudge-stick for Mary as a peace offering.” Jordan shakes her head. “Maybe, maybe not. It could somehow backfire,” she reclaims, a little harsh. Hope holds her uncertain gaze for a moment. “Maybe.” She backs away from the counter and wanders over to a separate area. Sighing, Jordan turns her attention forward to Rachel.

* * *

 

Sharon resurfaces in the white room where a disheveled Jamie is huddled in a corner. She confidently saunters up to him wearing an impersonal expression. “You have quite the deepest fear, one that I recognize to be the Twilight Dimension.”

“Leave! Stay out of my mind, witch!”

“If you’re finally ready to talk I will gladly leave you in peace afterwards.”

Jamie breathes rapidly for several seconds before gulping. “I know of a singular method to resurrect a soul from that godforsaken prison,” he reports. Sharon immediately perks up at the claim. “Tell me,” she demands. Jamie leans his head against the wall in defeat. “Please. Give me a moment before I divulge into my distant past. It is one I buried a long time ago.” Sharon lifts her chin tolerantly.

* * *

 

In the living room, Lauren waits as Keelin sets a pot of dead flowers on the coffee table. “Everything ready to go,” the wolf asks, peering over at the nodding doctor. “Ready when you are.” Keelin looks up at Mikaela patiently standing beside her. “Okay, baby. I’m gonna take your moonstone off now. All you have to do is this one thing for me and that’s it,” she assures.

“I know, Mommy. It’s easy.”

Grinning, Keelin runs a hand down Mikaela’s arm. “Okay.” She climbs to her feet and circles the table to take her place beside Lauren. “It’s your time, honey. Go ahead,” the latter directs. Mikaela nods subtly before holding her hands out above the terracotta pot and closing her eyes. “Belle…la vie…a cette fleur, main-ten-tant.” The room brightens mystically as the daffodils and daisies begin to renew. Translucent blue butterflies manifest around the space inciting Lauren and Keelin to widen their eyes in amazement. “Are you getting this,” the wolf queries. Her friend barely blinks. “Uh, yeah. Definitely. How could I miss it?” Mikaela finally opens her eyes and grants them a delighted grin.

* * *

 

Hope trails a speedy Jordan through an alleyway. “You’re never going to forgive me are you,” she blurts out. The hybrid suddenly breaks to face her, dangling a brown bag. “We’re fine, Hope. Let’s just get home alright?” The tribrid comes forward to meet her head on. “I know that my mom talked you into bringing me, but I really want to fix this on my own. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Jordan takes a deep breath. “I know you want to make up for what happened, but I just don’t see the point. We don’t have to be best friends just because we share a few family members. You’ll be going back to your fancy boarding school in two days and we won’t have to deal with each other anymore. Don’t you want a drama-free vacation? A decent start to a new year?”

“I told you what I wanted days ago in the bayou. I get you not trusting me, I deserve that after what I did. It just sucks that you can’t see how hard I’m trying to be your family. Maybe it was stupid to actually want to be that.”

Hope breezes past Jordan to reach the parked black sedan and tugs the passenger door open before slipping in. Closing her mouth, Jordan slowly turns around to follow suit.

* * *

 

In the white room, Jamie rests against the wall with a hand perched on his knee. “You’re familiar with the tale of my psychic awakening, but what came after that failed sacrifice was far more sinister. I traveled north, eventually escaping the Philippines. Many years into my journey for a true home I encountered energy I had never felt before, a distinct signature that only the dead possess.”

Sharon furrows her brows but remains quiet as Jamie prepares himself. “I made friends with seven different souls that promised me a new life. They each played on my resentment, the contempt I held for the shamans of my former community. And they successfully seduced me into absorbing their psychic energy, solidifying my place as a new follower of their all-powerful deity. In return I received the gift of immortality and imperviousness to fatal harm. The seven songs capable of lulling any being into a deep slumber was a welcomed side effect. But, I hadn’t anticipated the grave consequences of striking a deal with the devil.” Sharon keeps her eyes trained to Jamie, shamelessly absorbed in the dark tale.

* * *

 

Mikaela busily colors a blue butterfly at a polished oak bar counter. Seated next to her daughter, Keelin quietly spectates before licking her lips. “Hey, Roo Roo. Have the butterflies…happened before? Maybe when Jordan taught you that spell,” she inquires. Mikaela continues her coloring while shaking her head. “Nope. I just see them in my head sometimes. She told me to release them so they can be free and if I let go and trust them, they will always come back to me.” Keelin grins softly. “Your big cousin is pretty wise isn’t she? A good teacher in the making.” Mikaela peers up at her, nodding. “Maybe she could be one like Auntie Bridget someday.” Her mother reaches out to pet her sandy curls before kissing her forehead sweetly.

Lauren saunters into the kitchen and circles the counter to settle across from the pair. “Guess whose magic show turned out to be _very_ convincing,” she asks, holding a tablet. “Mine,” Mikaela answers, bouncing in her chair. Lauren grins in response. “That’s right, honey. You’re quite the prodigy,” she proclaims spiritedly. Keelin pats Mikaela’s back to gain her attention.

“Why don’t you go finish your drawing for Mama in the other room, baby.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Mikaela grabs her picture and hops down from the chair to hasten out of the kitchen. “You sure do make a cute kid, Plucky. Almost makes me want one.” Keelin settles her gaze on Lauren with a prideful smile. “As if you’d ever give up your freedom long enough to consider it,” she teases. Her friend twists her face into a goofy expression.

“True. It would be _crazy_ hard to investigate your extended werewolf family if I did that. Speaking of which, everything Jess told you checks out. There is an old prophecy that points right to you bringing prosperity to your forgotten people.”

Keelin nods her head slowly, a bit overwhelmed again. “So I do fit the mystical criteria. Great,” she utters. “More than great,” Lauren retorts. “Your prestige has garnered another believer today and granted me the answer to my Sierra research, the origin of a unique shapeshifting capability. I’m sure you’re interested from a medical standpoint if not for your wild personal life.”

“I’m interested. How was my line blessed by the mysterious powers of Nature?”

Lauren supplies a mischievous smirk and sets her tablet down before resting her elbows on the countertop. “I’ll let you know when I do. My friend is willing to offer up some Sierra history but only if she’s in your favor,” she discloses. Keelin tilts her head with a cynical look.

“Ellis…”

“Plucky…”

“I’m telling you exactly what I told Jess. Involving myself in Sierra affairs will only ever be on my terms. For right now I’m focused on my pregnant wife, the two young girls we’re raising, and curing my best friend of a genetic disorder. All the while juggling a demanding career with a family curse. I’m sorry.”

Lauren raises her hands in surrender. “Hey. Whatever I can do to help you’ve got it. Whether it’s boasting your royalty status or examining your wife’s lady parts I’m here for you. So if that means taking a step back from the _spectacularly_ intriguing research I will.” She wields an obnoxiously adorable pouty face triggering an incredulous snort from Keelin.

* * *

 

“So the devil does exist. And…you served him?”

“You make it seem so intimate, yet I was never formally introduced. I was given orders indirectly through the souls. If I desired to maintain my new gifts, the one who granted such power required a resurrection and permanent anchor to the earth.”

Sharon tilts her head while knitting her brows. “And how were you going to do that,” she questions. Jamie lifts his chin slightly. “There was an object forged millennia ago by a powerful witch named Sol. Let’s just call it the Cup of a Thousand Suns. Ironically, he perished during its creation, overexertion of psionic magic. My task was to locate the cup and absorb enough of its energy to create a gateway.”

“Obviously you didn’t so what happened?”

“The ugly truth happened. I overheard the whispering among souls of the Twilight Dimension. Apparently, a psychic would be rendered nothing more than pure energy in the process of absorbing that cup. I wasn’t willing to give my life for an entity infamously known as the _Devourer_ , so I circumvented the ordeal. The cup was indestructible leaving me no choice but to stow it away underground. Afterwards, I went about my life using my gifts to my own benefit and the rest…is history.”

“So you strategically evaded a horrible death, impressive. But something tells me your bigger concern was outrunning that deal with the devil. You must’ve buried that cup deep enough to never see the light of day. I’m gonna need those exact coordinates.”

Jamie shakes his head, releasing a dramatic sigh. “It is impossible for me to provide. I’ve long since purged that information from my own mind. No one, and I mean _no_ one is going to find it. The day it falls into the wrong hands will be the day hell is unleashed on earth.” Sharon gazes at him with slight worry.

* * *

 

Bridget groans as she rolls over on her side. Cracking her eyes open she’s met with a note standing on the bedside table. After pulling herself upright she grabs it to read the cursive message sealed with red lipstick.

 

_Dunch was absolutely magical. I’ve stepped out for a bit to allow you some rest for tonight. I won’t keep you waiting too long._

_Yours truly,_

_Rebekah xx_

 

Chuckling lightly, Bridget shakes her head before placing the note back onto the side table. “Well that plan backfired,” she mutters to herself. “Not entirely. I didn’t have to catch you in a compromising position,” a familiar voice chimes. Bridget darts her eyes over to Freya standing in the doorway with her arms folded. A sunny grin spreads across the pureblood’s face.

“I would squeeze you right now if I was remotely decent.”

Freya tilts her head lightheartedly before crossing the distance to sit on the bed. She shares a laugh with her friend as they wrap their arms around each other. “So dunch went well,” she teases while pulling away. Bridget shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. “It’s stupid, not quite dinner but too late to be lunch. We made it up one particularly drunken night in Tuscany,” she explains, earning a short nod. “Is everything okay across the pond? It’s good to see you but I wasn’t expecting a spiritual visit.”

Freya licks her lips. “Everything is fine. Of course, Hayley is babysitting me, but I suppose I can’t complain when it comes to family. I just…need your help with something important. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here crashing your honeymoon.” Bridget easily senses the urgency before nodding. “I’m all ears, whatever you need.”

“Yesterday Elijah called me about a way to get rid of the Hollow for good. That cup that Veda gave Dahlia centuries ago is powerful enough to destroy any matter, alive or dead. I just need to find it.”

Bridget raises her eyebrows while processing the information. “What are the odds right? The key to reuniting your siblings has been kept in the family for the last millennium,” she finally remarks. “Only Dahlia made it impossible to find. None of my locator spells have worked which is why I’m here now. You’re the only psychic I know, Bridget. That means you’re capable of interacting with spirits even if they’ve passed on,” Freya informs. Bridget lifts her chin in realization. “You want me to contact Dahlia,” she surmises.

“It’s the only way my siblings can all be together again.”

“If doing this means you and Rebekah can have your family back then sign me up. I know how much you guys need this. She’s been dreaming about it for _so_ long that I just want her to finally have it, both of you.”

Freya gazes at Bridget earnestly and wets her lips again before nodding. “Elijah swore me to secrecy. Rebekah can’t know until everything is in order. None of my siblings can,” she asserts. Bridget grabs onto her hands supportively. “Then I swear they won’t. You have my word so let’s do this now,” she affirms.

* * *

 

In the living room the curtains are now closed as candles on the coffee table illuminate the area. “When I was little spirits would show themselves to me. I knew them as imaginary friends, well the friendly ones anyway. I’ve never summoned a spirit from peace so I’m not sure how it will go,” Bridget clarifies. “I know you can do this. Who else can,” Freya poses. Her friend holds out a hand.

“An item that belonged to her would help since I never knew her, but you’ll do just fine to establish a direct connection.”

Freya grasps Bridget’s hand without hesitation before nodding to signal her readiness. The pureblood shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Dahlia, I summon you. You may use me as a bridge to Freya, your surviving niece.” After a few seconds she opens her eyes to see a young Dahlia standing next to her in lavender garb.

“I’ll be damned.”

Freya looks from the blank space to Bridget. “You see her? Is she here,” the former questions. The latter nods slowly while curiously inspecting the spirit. “She is here in one-hundred percent medieval attire. I thought she was older when she died. And _kind_ of a fashionable bitch according to Rebekah.”

“Focus. Can you hear me, Dahlia? Can she hear me?”

Dahlia gazes at Freya with endearment. “My dear, Freya.” Bridget watches intently. “She can hear and see you. I guess this only works one way,” she notifies. Freya turns her attention to the occupied space. “Hopefully the afterlife has been treating you well because I need your help. A long time ago the Cup of a Thousand Suns became a powerful addition to your collection. What did you do with it?” Dahlia lifts her chin. “That wretched chalice belonging to the Algerian witch,” she questions. “Yeah that’s the one,” Bridget quips, earning a glance from Freya.

“Never mind whatever foolish plans you have in store for it. You must cease this search, Freya.”

Bridget knits her brows while tilting her head. “She’s telling you to stop looking for the cup,” she relays. Freya frowns, shaking her head. “Why,” she questions. Dahlia steps up to the unsuspecting Viking. “Because it is cursed with an energy so malignant that even I feared its raw power. I channeled a bit to slay those within Veda’s immediate bloodline and channeled more to prevent future sorcery from any progeny that may have fallen through the cracks. I even dared to drain the cup of its power entirely, but it proved to be limitless.” She exhales stressfully.

“It’s darkness overwhelmed me as a very disciplined witch. It caused violent storms, death, and chaos…things I wasn’t capable of in my prime. It could not be destroyed and so I ensured that no one else would be acquainted with its affliction.”

“We can’t use the cup, Freya. Dahlia hid it for a very good reason. Even she couldn’t handle its power.”

Freya gives Bridget a dry look. “She was obsessed with power and motivated by her darkness. What she used it for has nothing to do with reuniting my family. I can handle it,” she affirms. Dahlia shakes her head furiously. “You are a cursed firstborn, just as I was, and there is much more you’ve yet to understand about what that means. I kept the cup for but a short time before witnessing the evils it caused. Using that weapon will make you a danger to yourself and to everyone else!” She turns to face a thunderstruck Bridget. “Break this link if you truly care for my niece.”

Instinctively, Bridget shuts her eyes tightly and reopens them to confirm Dahlia’s swift departure. She releases a burdened breath before looking at Freya’s mystified expression. “I’m not letting you use that cup. I can’t.” Freya sternly invades Bridget’s personal space. “That’s not up to you,” she asserts, shaking her head.

“You didn’t know Dahlia, but you know me. Just minutes ago you were willing to do _anything_ to help.”

“She wouldn’t even tell me where it is. That’s how much she was against the whole idea. We can find another way, we always do.”

Freya purses her lips while angrily staring Bridget down. “Tell that to my family.” Before the pureblood can speak the blonde abruptly vanishes from sight, leaving her to close her eyes with a disheartened sigh.

* * *

 

Keelin approaches the study just as Hayley emerges from the room. “Hey. No casualties I take it,” she inquires. The hybrid tilts her head with a telling look. “She’s a little cranky. There was a witchy disagreement with Bridget,” she notifies. The werewolf sighs. “Should I even ask?” Her friend raises her eyebrows exaggeratedly. “She’s _all_ yours. I’ll go see what the girls are up to.”

Keelin steps aside, allowing Hayley to pass before entering the study. She instantly spots Freya sitting on the leather couch while flipping through a large grimoire. “So…” She reaches the couch and eases down next to her moody wife. “You get a pass because of the hormones but I would still like to know what’s going on with you.” Ill-humored emerald eyes peer into her own.

“I’m sure Hayley told you all about me overreacting.”

“Nope,” Keelin disproves, shaking her head. “Just that you had a fight with Bridget.” Freya tilts her head with a regretful sigh. “It wasn’t a fight. I’m not angry with her I’m just…angry with myself for allowing this to happen.” She watches as her wife zones in on her. “I went along with Vincent’s plan in the first place. Divide the Hollow up, separate my siblings. I started a family of my own and worried less about our biggest enemy. And now my only chance of rectifying that means risking more lives, including the life of our unborn child. What can I possibly do about this, Keelin?”

“Hey, what am I missing here? Elijah didn’t mention risking lives when he told you about Veda’s cup.”

“He didn’t know. I couldn’t find it with any locator spells, so I thought about contacting Dahlia.”

Keelin gives a short nod. “You needed a psychic to do that. Bridget,” she surmises. Freya bites her lip. “It worked but Dahlia refused to tell us where she buried it. She claimed it was evil and Bridget believed her,” she recounts. “Well if the original wicked witch herself said so I believe it too. You know we can’t take that chance, Freya. Maybe it’s for the best,” Keelin concludes.

“I know. And it’s because of me. I got a text from Bridget afterwards. What Dahlia feared the most was a cursed firstborn having that cup. She used it to do so many horrible things in so little time that it almost consumed her. She said that there was more for me to understand, that it would be worse for me - practically the end of the world as we know it.”

Keelin carefully cradles Freya’s face in her hands. “Your aunt knew a lot about curses. She even helped you contain your own, but you are _not_ her, neither is the _sweetest_ firstborn you helped create. Don’t think for a second that I will ever let you believe you’re the cause of all that’s wrong with our family. We’re just gonna have to figure this out and do it the right way.” Freya supplies a subtle nod and allows Keelin to pull her into a tight hug before closing her eyes.

* * *

 

A massive crowd bounces to a bass heavy track playing over a top-notch sound system. A smoky-eyed Bridget cuts through wearing a sheer black long sleeved shirt, shiny red high-waisted trousers, and studded black heels. “Oi!” A leather jacket clad stranger emerges from the sea of bodies to grab onto the witch’s wrist, earning a frown. “Excuse me?” The man leans in close.

“Uh, sorry. I’m not from here and I’ve noticed that guys seem to say that a lot when vying for a girl’s attention.”

“Well I’m not from here either so trust me when I say that’s not working.”

“I don’t know,” the man drawls, smirking. “Seems to be working alright. Wanna dance?”

“That’s not really a good idea. My girlfriend is around here somewhere and calling her the jealous type would be an understatement.”

The man raises his eyebrows. “Hey, if she’s anywhere near as hot as you she can join too. It’s a party after all,” he remarks. Bridget tilts her head with a sardonic smirk. “Ah…how sweet of you. I think we’ll have to pass on the offer though. Enjoy the party. Oi!” She resolutely frees her arm and continues her journey through the crowd until she reaches an industrial staircase. Before she can climb them she’s snatched away to a closed off area and aggressively pinned against a wall. “I tried to play nice but I’m so damn hungry,” the man growls, unveiling his true face.

“You smell like…”

“A delightful snack?”

The man whips his head to find Rebekah watching through narrowed eyes. She’s donning a long sleeved black jumpsuit and gold strappy heels with her hair tucked into a low messy bun. “Speaking from experience she is quite the temptress. I don’t think she fancies poor self-control though.” An aneurysm assaults the man’s brain, bringing him to his knees as he grabs his head. Rebekah dashes over in no time to extract his heart causing him to tip over lifelessly.

“Tactless baby vamps. When will men learn how to treat a high-caliber lady.”

Rebekah drops the bloody organ in her palm and caresses Bridget’s cheek with her clean hand. “I had him you know. The chivalry in designer heels could’ve waited just a second,” the witch claims. “I know full well how capable you are of holding your own, love. But I can’t leave any opportunities open when there’s newborn bloodlust involved,” the original maintains.

Protective ocean eyes enrapture warm chestnut orbs. “Are you ready to go? I can think of much better ways to spend our last night in town.” Bridget nods affirmatively and kisses the corner of Rebekah’s mouth. “I’ll go grab our things and meet you out front,” she states. The blonde gifts a small smile before zipping away without a trace. Sighing, Bridget cautiously steps over the desiccated body and clears her path through plastic blinds to exit the area. Once again she reaches the industrial staircase and travels to the private lounge overhead. She treks over to the orange couch and begins collecting two clutches when she senses a presence. Whirling around she identifies Freya as the culprit standing behind her.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hey. Didn’t expect to see you any time soon.”

Freya knits her fingers together. “I threw a tantrum, but I wasn’t ignoring you. I was sulking in the study while trying to find a way to keep my family out of danger. That includes you, you know.” She comes closer as Bridget bites her lip. “I’m sorry for the way I acted, for disappearing like that.” Her companion quickly shakes her head. “I understand what you’re trying to do, Freya. Whatever it takes to fix _always and forever_. You know that I would do the same, that I _want_ to for the people I love more than anything.” Freya parts her lips slightly while blinking.

“I know,” she whispers.

“Then you know that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. It’s what _we’re_ gonna do together, as a family,” Bridget proclaims, exhaling as Freya tilts her head with uncertainty. “I don’t want you and the baby placed in any danger so I will be the one to handle the spell. I was thinking about what Dahlia said and how Veda had the cup for longer without issue. This kinda feels like destiny, a cursed firstborn and a tragic pureblood walking into a bar.”

Freya chuckles lightly and Bridget joins in momentarily. “I’m on Keelin’s health plan, I’m strong. And if Veda managed to keep some of her marbles I think I can do one better,” the latter attests. Her friend finally relaxes a bit. “I’m sold but Dahlia didn’t tell us where the cup is,” she replies. “She didn’t have to,” Bridget states, smirking. “Thanks to the link we held I saw something. Does a place called Avaldsnes ring a bell?” Freya stares at the pureblood attentively.

* * *

 

**_“How long do you think it will take me to rip the location out of you?”_ **

**_“Sooner or later you will realize you’re playing with fire.”_ **

**_Sharon tilts her head with an austere gaze. “If I get the cup first to resurrect Lo we can end any chance of evil world domination. You won’t have to worry about the devil catching up to you,” she affirms. “Love is a powerful thing; however, it is also a foolish notion to submit to completely,” Jamie proclaims, stanch._ **

In the parlor room, Sharon throws a stack of papers onto the table and grips the edge before bowing her head. “Am I in way over my head? I know that I should just let go and try to live a normal life but…what is that? Part of me feels so incomplete, so empty without you here. Sometimes I hate how co-dependent I am even after everything we’ve been through. It’s almost like I don’t know who I am without you.”

She inhales sharply and lifts her head. “It’s crazy but Tina once told me that I was the part that made you whole. Little old persistent Sharon was the only hope of humanizing tortured and sadistic Lo Easley. She was so sure that I was your soulmate, a reminder of something you once were. I don’t know.” She shakes her head sullenly. “I wish you could just tell me how true that is.”

Unbeknownst to Sharon, a visibly forlorn Lo lingers behind her. “You’re the best thing I ever had in my two centuries of torment. You knew every part of me and still never abandoned me. You always came back,” the demon expresses. Sensing a familiar energy, Sharon wipes her eyes before turning around. She finds nothing but empty space despite her heavy-hearted visitor.

“Lo?”

“I’m coming back to you. I’m gonna fight to the end, I promise.”

Lo stares at Sharon faithfully as they endure the stillness keeping them apart.

* * *

 

Jordan sets two plates on the courtyard table before glancing at Hope and Mikaela talking animatedly on the couch. Hayley materializes beside her to add another dish to the evening meal. “You could always join the party. Sometimes burying the hatchet means just being there,” she comments. Skeptical eyes fall on her.

“I’m the last person she wants to be around. Instead of trying to give her another chance I was standoffish and passive aggressive. Why won’t you just tell my aunts about the bayou? I’m being a huge jerk to your daughter.”

Hayley lowers her eyeline to Jordan’s. “I haven’t told them because you’re obviously keeping your cute vampire crush a secret. Teenagers have those, God knows I did. And for now I trust your judgement.” The girl tilts her head with an incredulous expression. “Patrick is not a secret or my crush. He’s just a friend and if he didn’t work for Marcel you would’ve mentioned it to them by now,” she concludes. “But thanks for choosing not to. Aunt Keelin would want _more_ open dialogue.”

“I think the problem here is that you’re so afraid of opening up, you’re guarded and I’m an expert on that. The outcome of what Hope did was bad enough but the fact that she cared that much to make you happy is what really bothers you. Now you’re pushing a lot harder than you have to,” Hayley points out. Jordan looks down at the silverware. “You’re the only one that can sort through why that is, Jordan. A life of feeling alone is far from the better option.” Jordan slowly peers up at Hayley who tilts her head softly.

Upstairs, Keelin enters her bedroom upon discovering Freya preoccupied with her phone. “Hey, dinner’s ready. But I see you couldn’t wait to call Elijah,” she voices. “It can wait. A nice family dinner is just as important,” the Viking reclaims as her wife settles before her. “Yeah and I’m not officially onboard with anyone using that cup until _after_ we study it. Therefore, we have plenty of time to make these big decisions. We have _time_.”

Freya gazes at Keelin persuasively before licking her lips. “Maybe just letting him know won’t hurt,” she remarks, earning an eye roll. “You will be the death of me, Mrs. Mikaelson.” Freya cups Keelin’s cheeks while leaning down to kiss her tenderly. Two short pecks later she pulls away with a remorseful look.

“I’ll be quick I promise.”

“Yeah you better be,” Keelin snorts, turning on her heels to leave the room. Freya watches the wolf’s retreating form before tapping her phone screen and pressing it to her ear. The line connects after a few seconds. “Freya. I must admit it’s nice to hear from you so soon,” Elijah greets. “It’s good to hear your voice too. Listen, I found the cup. Dahlia encased it in magical soil on a plot of land she used to own – land in Avaldsnes, Norway,” Freya enlightens.

“And are you sure of this?”

“Yes. Bridget got the information straight from the source. I know you wanted me to keep this a secret, but I needed a psychic. The locator spells were a failure because of Dahlia’s magic cloaking the cup. You can be sure Bridget won’t tell Rebekah just yet though.”

“I see. I will arrange an excavation right away.”

Freya bites her lip. “You should know that Dahlia is against the idea. Bridget only managed to come across this information by tapping into her mind,” she notifies. “I suppose finding peace has done wonders for her self-righteous morality,” Elijah retorts, offhanded. “I suppose,” Freya agrees. “Elijah, I made a promise to step back from my usual big sister role. What has to be done with that cup, I can’t do it.”

“I understand. There are powerful witches all over the world, sister. You’ve done enough already and should rest for the sake of your child.”

“Bridget is willing to do the spell to reunite our family. Honestly she’s probably drained from feeling all the dread between me and Rebekah but she’s strong.”

Elijah considers the thought for a moment. “Her loyalty is an enduring and honorable quality; she truly does love you both. And taking that knowledge into account…I trust in her ability to do so.” Freya holds a beat of silence before nodding. “Be careful, brother,” she requests.

“Don’t you worry, our family will finally be free of this curse. I will make sure of it.”


	17. A Murder Of Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Lilith oversees the excavation in Norway, Elijah heads to London where Bonnie is thriving in her second chance at life; Bridget and Rebekah's whirlwind vacation is threatened by outside forces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter takes place in Europe and centers on more Lilith history, a look into Bonnie's life away from Mystic Falls, and Klaus being Klaus when it comes to Bex. This is a prelude to the next chapter which takes place on the same day just a different time zone in New Orleans. So, there are some little clues and Easter eggs. As always, I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) Valerie Broussard - Trouble: Lilith and Elijah arrive at the excavation site.
> 
> 2) Deptford Goth - Union: Bonnie and Cain have breakfast.
> 
> 3) Kacey Johansing - Hold Steady: Bridget talks to Rebekah at a café before meeting Bonnie.
> 
> 4) James Vincent McMorrow - Red Dust: Rebekah unpacks with Bridget before talking to Klaus.
> 
> 5) Valerie Broussard - Devil In Your Eyes: Elijah arrives at Bonnie's townhouse.
> 
> 6) Ella Vos - Ocean: Bridget and Rebekah talk about Klaus.
> 
> 7) Erin McCarley - GOOD: Rebekah and Bridget's coastal drive.
> 
> 8) Liz Lawrence - The Good Part: Rebekah and Bridget encounter Klaus's spy as they leave Místico.
> 
> 9) PatrickReza - The Wall: Cain enters Elijah's mind.
> 
> 10) Katie Garfield - All Is Lost: Bonnie infiltrates Elijah's mind and learns about Lilith.
> 
> 11) Ruelle - Madness: Lilith unearths Sol's cup and buries the workers alive.
> 
> 12) Amber Run - Fickle Game: Bridget tells Rebekah about Bonnie; Cain checks on Bonnie.
> 
> 13) VCTRYS - Black Magic Woman: Lilith revels in victory on a private jet.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

**BANKEN HOTEL. HAUGESUND, NORWAY.**

Lilith fetches a black peacoat from the wardrobe and closes the door to spot a shirtless Elijah in the mirror. “Well good morning to me,” she quips, spinning around to face him. “Shouldn’t you be dressed and ready to start our very exciting day?” Elijah moves in to attach his lips to Lilith’s exposed neck. “Hm, I would prefer the sight of you…undressed and eager to start this very exciting day at a more… _flexible_ time.”

“Interesting choice words. The idea is tempting but we do have business to tend to. Who else will oversee a critical excavation site?”

Elijah stops his advances to look at Lilith. “I’m sure you recall the convenience of compulsion. Pick any capable stranger with a pulse.” He begins to unbutton her coat until she grabs his impatient hands. “The bigger picture here, Elijah. It’s important not to overlook it if you want your greatest desires to be fulfilled. You have to trust me.” Elijah reaches up to cradle Lilith’s face with a sober expression.

“I would be foolish not to.”

**_Larsa, City-State of Sumer. Uruk Period 3 rd Millennium BC._ **

**_A young woman with wild, curly hair slaps a flat wheat cake on a round pan. Lilith parades into the mudbrick home, nose pointed high as her wavy tresses cascade down her tan garment. “Ishtar-ibbi! You were to return after your duties rather than to roam the streets all night. Any witness could have slain you and been justified by law.”_ **

**_Lilith kneels before the woman to display the silver chain containing a vibrant lapis lazuli stone around her neck. The latter is amazed by the jewelry before suddenly snapping herself out of it. “How did you obtain such a thing?” The former grins deviously. “The merchant. I was serving his midday brew when he presented it to me as a gift. Is it not as beautiful as you, Samara? With my best persuasions I believe he would allow me to accompany him on one of his voyages in the caravan. He appears to be hopelessly in love with me,” she boasts confidently._ **

**_Samara perks up at the claim. “Do you have plans to marry him and escape Sheepskin,” she inquires. “I do not,” Lilith replies firmly. “I will never accept any hand in marriage nor will I remain another man’s property for long. Certainly not one called Sheepskin.”_ **

**_“You are a strange mountain girl.”_ **

**_“Perhaps you just refuse to see beyond the present state of things while I see everything, a bigger vision.”_ **

* * *

 

**AVALDSNES, NORWAY.**

“How do you feel about Norway?”

Lilith and Elijah trudge across an open field blanketed by a cracked sheet of snow. “I was the first of my parents’ children to be born in the New World. I hold no memory nor attachment to this place,” he answers. “I’m aware. I was referring to your desire or lack thereof to conquer this land after our success. I find the Viking ships to be quite interesting,” she quips.

“Indifferent. The inhabitants are a bit strange,” Elijah claims, smirking.

“Strange, I can manage,” Lilith retorts, imitating his expression.

As they arrive at the excavation site she moves ahead to duck underneath the white construction tape. She stops near the gaping hole and crouches down to rake her gloved fingers into the dirt patch. Tilting her head she shuts her eyes in deep concentration. A force calls her several feet back. Her eyes crack open before she rises to her feet, turning to notice a middle-aged man walking past her in a hardhat. “Hey you.” After he turns to address her she pierces his eyes. “Tell your friends to adjust their work three feet this way. I want a successful development project.”

“Yes, Ms. Vogel.”

The man turns around to alert more workers as Lilith lifts her chin aloofly.

**_Lilith stays anchored behind Samara in a lake while gently massaging her scalp. “Why must you be the one to possess hands like a goddess,” the latter ponders. She lifts her chin slightly as she revels in the calming sensation. “Because I am a goddess capable of bringing an army to my feet. All with a simple touch,” the former declares._ **

**_“You must stop thinking that way before you are slain, and I am left all alone with our slaver.”_ **

**_Lilith’s hands fall to Samara’s shoulders before revolving her body. “I swear never to leave you alone with that coward. I will take you wherever I go, to freedom and joy in my very own tavern. It will be a glorious future for us both,” she avows dreamily. The curly-haired woman smiles at the ideal life. “Such a future is enticing. But your dreams are in the sky and Sheepskin is expecting to bed you sooner rather than later,” she prompts. Lilith lifts her chin with dignity. “And I refuse to lay with him. I will not become a concubine for a man beneath me,” she asserts. Samara frowns._ **

**_“Beneath you? Our father was a poor, unlucky farmer and you cannot recall who your mother was.”_ **

**_“Neither can you recall the woman who gave you life, but I do. She was a miserable, hollow mountain girl that did everything she was told only to die a miller. You should learn from her mistakes while you are young. I have only sought to teach you how, Sami.”_ **

**_Samara shakes her head furiously. “You have only sought my punishment by death, Ibbi!” Lilith grips her shoulders tighter while leaning in critically. “No! I see great things for you, all of your deepest desires come true! None of which involves weaving baskets day and night. You have always remained pure despite our tribulations. Therefore, you will inherit power, the world, a life of meaning and peace.” Samara gives Lilith an apologetic look. “Forgive me for accusing you of such evil,” she utters. The taller woman smiles sweetly while relaxing._ **

**_“I forgive you, little sister.”_ **

**_She rotates her sibling by the shoulders and resumes washing her thick curls. “Sisters of divine creation,” a voice like a foghorn calls out. Lilith and Samara turn to find a bearded man ogling them shamelessly with his lips upturned in a crooked smirk. “I am pleased to own both. Come, come now. Your bathing must wait when work is to be done.”_ **

Lilith examines her hands before turning to face Elijah just as ringing alarms them. The original reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve his phone and taps the screen before holding it to his ear. “I’ve been waiting rather patiently for your call. Do speak in plain terms, have you found Bonnie Bennett,” he inquires. A husky voice filters into his ear soon after.

“Wouldn’t be calling you if I hadn’t gotten fresh eyes on the cute little dead girl. My team tracked her down in London living under the alias, Bethany Garrett. She’s ironically committed to an in demand photographer named Cain Jackson. She works as a holistic therapist, owns a nice terraced townhouse in Notting Hill, volunteers on Sundays, and visits the same overpriced café every morning. All the details you need are in the email I’ve sent.”

“Quite the fascinating reprieve from small-town life. Let’s take a look shall we?”

Elijah removes the phone from his ear and ends the call before dragging the notification bar down to click on an unread email. An image of Bonnie smoothing her shoulder-length bob down as she leaves a cornflower blue townhouse loads first. In the next photograph she’s exiting an attractive coffee shop with a small cup in her hand. Another one depicts her talking to little children in a garden and the following one shows her holding hands with a tall, thin dark-skinned man as they stroll through a park. In the final photograph Bonnie sits opposite Cain over a candlelit dinner near the restaurant window. Elijah tilts his head at their unheard laughter before peering up to find Lilith observing him.

“Go. I have everything under control here.”

“I don’t doubt you do.”

* * *

 

**NOTTING HILL, LONDON, ENGLAND.**

Following the smell of sizzling bacon, Bonnie buttons her white shirt as she descends the three steps leading to the kitchen. “Good morning,” she chirps, intercepting Cain as he carries two plates in her direction. “Mm, good morning.” The man lowers his head to peck his fiancée’s expectant lips. “Sit down, sit down.” He sets their meals on the circular, glass table.

“I can’t,” Bonnie whines, tilting her head. “I don’t wanna be late for my appointment with Izzy.” Cain bends over to capture her lips again. “I’m sure Izzy won’t mind you being a little late for once. You’re having breakfast with your man,” he declares, earning a smirk. Bonnie slips over to a quirky accent chair, shrugging as she pulls it out from the table.

“I guess I can’t argue with that, man.”

Her fiancé swaggers over to the fridge and tugs it open. “No you cannot, lady. Milk or OJ?” Bonnie feasts her eyes on a plate piled with buttermilk pancakes, fresh bacon, and scrambled eggs. “Apple juice.” She takes notice of a wide-eyed, zombified girl plastered on the comic book near her plate. Picking the item up, she silently reads the title above the character’s dripping blonde hair.

“Wise choice.”

“What’s with the creepy reading material? Lenore?”

At the counter Cain pours the apple juice into a glass. “Lenore, the Cute Little Dead Girl. Charlie’s got me into some messed up dark comedy inspired by the likes of Poe.” A chill creeps up Bonnie’s spine inciting her to rest the comic on the table. “Messed up humor _is_ Charlie’s thing. Maybe we should finally cut him off,” she suggests, biting her lip. Cain takes a seat across from the witch and motions a finger, mentally ushering a glass towards her. “Yeah, my man is into some _weird_ stuff,” he agrees plainly.

“Speaking of _weird_ gothic images…I had another dream about the crows. What do you think it means?”

“Ah, the crows again. Maybe it’s a warning from the devil or too many old horror films your Grams loves recommending.”

Cain helps himself to the apple juice and Bonnie narrows her eyes. “Wow, okay. I can’t believe how _funny_ you are today,” she remarks. Smirking, her fiancé sets his glass down before reaching out to grasp her hand. “Alright. If it will put your mind at ease we can look into it, get ourselves on a little oneiromancy kick until we figure things out. Yeah?”

Bonnie scrunches her face up, apologetically torn. “I kinda just want to spend my free time doing perfectly normal things with my fiancé,” she states. “I’ll figure it out. Worst case scenario, Grams will give me a whole lecture about enjoying life instead of seeking meaning in every little thing.”

“Well, she’s right and wrong.”

“Do _not_ tell her that.”

“You can find _meaning_ in any little thing you want, baby. I do it every day with you.”

A loving grin slips onto Bonnie’s face. “Please tell me you’re not working today,” she nearly begs. “Oh yeah. I got this incendiary spread planned already,” Cain reclaims playfully. “And what is this _incendiary_ spread called,” the woman fishes. “ _You_ on _me_ after three,” the man retorts. “Yeah?” Cain gets up from his chair and shuffles over to Bonnie, lifting her in one fell swoop. “Cain. Cain,” she yelps. Her lighthearted pleas go ignored as he races towards the sofa, carrying her over his shoulder.

* * *

 

Spacey guitars and mellow synths glide around the bijou café imbued with cinnamon and hazelnut. Underneath the bar lights Rebekah and Bridget smile at one another while toying with their freshly drained coffee cups. “Last chance to back out of our foolhardy plans to stay at Klaus’s sensationalistic castle,” the vampire bids.

“It’s Portugal, babe. I wouldn’t back out if we were staying in a shack. I’ve been freezing my ass off and getting rained on for long enough.”

Rebekah narrows her eyes while tilting her head impishly. “Whose bright idea was it again to visit London in the dead of winter,” she questions. Bridget rolls her eyes with a shake of her head, instigating laughter from the blonde. “All I’m saying is that if you get _scared_ in Klaus’s lair, I’ll be there to protect you,” she proclaims, batting her eyelashes.

“Oh really? Well, I am a bit of a scaredy cat,” Rebekah retorts while leaning in. Bridget hums in agreement as soft lips press against her own. Seconds later, the couple rest their foreheads together before pulling away with besotted grins. “Excuse me for just a moment. I promise not to dally whilst you freeze your precious behind off.”

“Mm. I’ll be here, still cheering for Portugal of course.”

Rebekah steps down from her stool, shaking her head as a couple of students breeze by. When she finally disappears behind the restroom door Bridget looks away and spots a composition book lying on the floor. She slides off her own stool and crouches down to retrieve the forgotten item. As she rises to inspect it a distracted Bonnie collides with her.

“Dammit,” they curse, dropping their things.

The two women instantly lock eyes in embarrassment before chuckling as they bend over to grab the items. Bridget hands Bonnie her phone first with a winsome smile. “I think this belongs to you,” she remarks. Bonnie accepts the device while offering the notebook to Bridget. “And this is yours I’m assuming. Nathaniel, right,” she jests.

“Not mine obviously. I’m Bridget.”

Bridget extends a hand and Bonnie reaches out to shake it pleasantly. “Bethany. Sorry for being the stereotypical millennial attached to my phone. I should _probably_ start watching where I’m going.” A tingling emanates from their respective fingertips and settles into a warm sensation throughout their bodies. Quick flashes in recent memory are exchanged between them.

_Bonnie holding a dark-haired woman’s hands while channeling healing energy into her body. Covering her mouth in awe of Cain getting down on one knee at a fancy restaurant. Strolling around a park while talking to Grams. Laying her head on Cain’s chest as they drink and play Charades with friends. Bridget listening to music while focusing on an intense morning run. Laughing as she wraps her arms around Rebekah’s neck in a lavish ballroom. Kissing Rebekah on the rooftop during New Years Eve. Hugging Freya in bed at the Mayfair apartment._

At breakneck speed they’re back in the present, exhaling sharply. Bridget tilts her head at the familiarity of Bonnie who’s just as curious about her. For the latter, however, her bubbling anxiety outweighs their obvious connection. In a whirlwind she rushes out of the café without looking back. Bridget remains bewildered in her place until Rebekah materializes before her. “Ready to go? Our flight leaves in twenty minutes,” the original notifies. “Yeah,” the pureblood drawls, finally redirecting her gaze with a small smile.

“I’m ready.”

* * *

 

Several pastel-colored shops line Portobello Road in a hazy blur. Bonnie shows no sign of stopping her hasty trek until Sheila obstructs her path. “Grams? I didn’t summon you,” the former breathes. “Well somebody did and it sure wasn’t the Easter Bunny I know that much,” the latter retorts, snarky. Bonnie shakes her head recklessly.

“Well sorry for the butt dial to peace but I really have to get going if I want to keep mine.”

She sidesteps Sheila and manages a few feet before the spirit reappears in her path. “Bonnie Sheila Bennett. I believe I taught you to respect your elders didn’t I?” Finally allowing herself a reprieve, Bonnie grabs her forehead to collect the thoughts and emotions swimming in her brain. “I’m sorry, Grams,” she apologizes while dropping her hand.

“My intention isn’t to take it out on you.”

Sheila purses her lips and lifts her chin knowingly. “What’s all the fuss about, child? You only give me a long distance call whenever you feel like there’s no one better to talk to. In times of distress, and in times of great happiness,” she states, grinning. “But something tells me I’m not here because you want to sip tea over gossip.” Bonnie sighs regretfully, shaking her head.

“No. I just met someone, and I might be in trouble if I stay here.”

Sheila tilts her head slightly while examining Bonnie. “Someone you’re interested in huh? Maybe even someone you care about already,” she surmises. The younger Bennett mirrors her elder before pursing her lips. “When I touched her…it felt right, familiar. She’s just like me, both psychic and a witch. I never thought I would have that again after you passed and everything else fell apart. But I don’t wanna put either of us in danger just by knowing each other. Based on the visions I’ve seen it seems like the best option.”

“Best for who? The successful young woman living in her perfect little world? Is it worth turning away family cause it _seems_ to be what you’re telling me.”

“Grams, she’s happy living her own life. She’s _also_ in love with the same original vampire that played Barbie Mayhem with my childhood friends. That’s not really the reunion I want okay? _This_ is the life I’ve always wanted, the life I fought _so_ hard for. I’m not gonna stay here just to lose it too.”

Sheila steps forward to grip Bonnie’s trembling hands. “Believe me, I understand wanting to stay out of vampire business. But Bonnie, this is your home and family’s involved now. That means a lot more than you could imagine for Bennett witches.” She raises her eyebrows exaggeratedly. “Oh that’s right, I forgot. You’re _Bethany Garrett_.”

“Grams…”

“Alright, just listen to me. You need to _quiet_ your mind, Bonnie. Only then can you make the best decisions for yourself. I’ve trusted you to do that this far and I’m trusting you now.”

Bonnie exhales and shuts her eyes while nodding. A whispering breeze infiltrates her ears before she opens her eyes to confirm Sheila’s withdrawal from the physical plane. “Sorry Grams but I’m not going back to how things were. _Never_.” She lifts her chin with determination.

* * *

 

Bonnie bursts through the front door and quickly shuts it. Cain quits stacking books into one of the shelf compartments and turns around. “Hey…you’re back so soon. Couldn’t wait to pick up where we left off?” He watches the unreadable woman setting her keys near the lamp on the side table before shrugging out of her peacoat to drape it over the cream sofa.

“Do your parents still own that cottage in France?”

Bonnie heads straight for the staircase and grasps the glass railing. Cain knits his eyebrows at the question as well as the witch’s strange behavior. “Uh…yeah. Suddenly interested in that weekend trip,” he inquires. “I’m interested in a forever trip. We need to pack _now_ ,” Bonnie throws over her shoulder. She reaches the first floor and passes the guest room to march up more stairs that lead right to the master suite. She approaches the bed and lowers onto her knees to search underneath it. In seconds she pulls out a leather suitcase and slams it onto the bed as Cain files into the room.

“You mind explaining what the hell is going on?”

His fiancée wanders over to the dresser and opens the top drawer to collect her underwear. “Remember when I told you that I couldn’t promise my past wouldn’t come back to haunt me at some point?” She returns to the bed and chucks the garments into the suitcase before piercing the man’s stern eyes. “So what is it? Your people back in Mystic Falls calling? Vampire business?”

Bonnie exhales inaudibly while slowly stepping into Cain’s space. She takes his hands into her own and gently brings them to her parted lips. Her eyes peer up into his gravely. “I can show you better than I can tell you.” Cain nods subtly and closes his eyes in anticipation. Bonnie stares at him emotionally before shutting her own.

* * *

 

**CASCAIS, LISBON, PORTUGAL.**

Rebekah and Bridget enter the main area with an older bearded man carrying their luggage. “Here we are, the famed Casa de Santa Maria,” the vampire announces as her girlfriend gawks at the horseshoe arches. “It’s…basically the Sistine Chapel,” the witch utters. They peer up at the wooden paneled ceiling highlighted by classic oil paintings.

“Well, one thing Nik does possess is exquisite architectural taste. In 1902, a wealthy aristocrat commissioned this home as a wedding present for his daughter. The architect was instructed to use only materials found within the country while disregarding all popular styles of the time. Needless to say, a masterpiece frequented by duchesses and kings was born.” Rebekah fixes her eyes to Bridget. “Years later, the architect’s brother acquired the property and expanded it into the bold _chapel_ you see now. He was a lover of fine art and an earnest collector but I’m sure the 17 th century Azulejo tiles gave that away.”

“So…is this the part where the history lesson detours into a certain hybrid’s murderous rage?”

“Surprisingly, no. Klaus went the civil route and acquired it from the Cascais Municipality shortly after we split up. He saw such glory packaged as a museum to be an injustice and made the necessary renovations.”

Bridget nods with some relief. “Great. I was hoping I wouldn’t be haunted by the Ghosts of Klaus’s Spree Past,” she quips. Rebekah smirks amusedly. “Take a look around and pick us out any room you’d like. I have to go see about compelling an artisan for proper grocery shopping and dinner,” she remarks, kissing her cheek. As the blonde exits the room Bridget rotates to address the man behind her.

“Espere aqui, por favor.”

“Claro, senhorita,” the man nods, lowering two suitcases to the floor.

Silently, Bridget wanders off past the other central rooms and into a narrow hallway with descending stairs. She curiously runs her fingers over the beautifully painted walls, failing to notice the shadow in the intersection ahead. As she reaches the bottom of the staircase, the figure moves out of sight just before she turns her head. Cautiously, she walks forward to rest a hand on the wall before looking at the hallway to her left. Once again she begins trekking down the shady path until blinding sunlight pours onto her. Squinting her eyes she finds herself overlooking the Marina and breathlessly takes in the picturesque view. A large crow flies by startling her as it lands on the patio railing above. Releasing a breath, Bridget stares at the ominous creature.

* * *

 

Situated on each side of a white canopy bed, Bridget and Rebekah busily sort through clothing. The pureblood comes across lace lingerie in her suitcase and holds it up with a disbelieving chuckle. “Whoa. I don’t remember purchasing an expensive, tiny strip of fabric.” Her girlfriend climbs onto the bed, scooting forward to snatch the garment with a puckish smirk.

“That was meant to be a very enticing surprise. It must’ve gotten lost in all your gloomy witchy wear.”

“Half of this is yours, Princess of _Doom_.”

“Shh,” Rebekah coos, cupping Bridget’s cheeks. “Can’t have you resorting to snark so early in the day.” They ease into a comfortable embrace as their lips collide tenderly. “Nice distraction tactic,” Bridget remarks, pulling back slightly. “Not gonna spare you the witty comebacks though.” Rebekah starts unbuttoning the witch’s grey Henley with one hand. “We’ll see about that,” she retorts confidently. They lean in for another kiss until an undesirable ringing cuts the tension like a knife.

With humorless chuckles they both halt their movements and Rebekah fishes the buzzing phone out of her pocket. Noting _KLAUS_ displayed on the screen, Bridget routinely pecks Rebekah’s temple. “I’ll take a quick shower while you answer that. Feel free to join me after.” The blonde peers up at her girlfriend, offering an appreciative smile and nodding before bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello, Nik. Your timing is impeccable.”

“Hello to you too, sister. Judging by the _awfully_ cheery tone I’m detecting I must be interrupting funny business. How are you enjoying the spoils of a blossoming love affair?”

“It’s simply magical, thank you for asking. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well I just wouldn’t be the thoughtful big brother I am without making sure you’re all settled. Or perhaps you still have your qualms about me providing the luxury of comfort during your stay in my former home.”

“Mm…cut the chitchat. You want something so what is it?”

“It is true that I desire something, but I assure you it has little to do with my own selfish deeds. Despite your suspicions, what I desire is your complete and utter happiness.”

Rebekah tilts her head, catching a glimpse of Bridget undressing in the en suite bathroom. “Nik,” she sighs out. “You can’t whisk your beloved away forever. I simply wish to have a proper chat with her. After all, I have to be sure of her intentions now that it’s clear how serious you are about her,” Klaus proclaims.

“You’ve had five bloody years to determine her intentions. Surely you’ve gathered that they are nothing but pure. She’s the trusted confidant of your wary older sister, the doting godmother of your only niece. Freya loves her like family and Kol adores her friendship while even Elijah holds a certain level of respect. That should be enough to sway you.”

“You mistake my feelings. I don’t doubt she cares for Freya nor do I diminish her honorable contributions to protecting those who matter most to me. However, none of that quite stands where my little sister’s heart is involved. You know of your greatest weakness, a thrilling love that intoxicates you before compromising your judgement. I have to be certain that this romance you’re embarking on is secure, that the one Freya considers family is worthy of your affections. Just as I had to with Marcel, the friend I call family who still proved to be a _mismatch_. You become all too faithful in the presence of enormous charm, consumed by illusions of timeless devotion. I’m inclined to believe Bridget’s moonlit serenades are bloody siren calls for you.”

Rebekah narrows her eyes before marching out of the bedroom. “Don’t tell me you’ve been spying on me again. Haven’t you learned from the past? Or are you perfectly content with your little minions feeding you private information on all your siblings for eternity? This is _my_ life to live Klaus, not yours.” Klaus sighs exasperatedly on the line. “ _Rebekah_ don’t be so dramatic. Those minions are necessary to keep you lot safe. I’m sure you recall how helpful they were when our poor brother erased us from all existence.” Rebekah nods agitatedly while leaning against the corridor wall.

“Yeah, I do. But we don’t need your protection whenever you see it fit anymore. You may be growing bored with your life, but Elijah has his business affairs and Kol has a happy home with his wife. I have…”

“The noble purebred witch who at last has declared her undying love for you, Rebekah Mikaelson. You’re the daughter of Mikael the Conqueror and Esther the Original Mikaelson Witch. The cherished baby sister of Niklaus Mikaelson the Terrible. Is it impossible to find that my concerns are perfectly rational? Misfortune might as well be a sinister accessory the way it remains permanently attached to your existence, following you everywhere you go.”

Rebekah swallows before licking her lips. “How many times will I be forced to relive your paranoid judgement? Is this about your never-ending fear of abandonment or is it your belief that someone decent could never love me without ill-intentions,” she questions. Klaus sighs regretfully. “This is about your protection being my priority. I only wish for no more heartbreaks at your doorstep, little sister. I intend to keep my promise to you as my blood because against all odds, I am your constant,” he affirms.

“Well perhaps that’s not what I need, your misguided devotion. You think you always know best, but things have changed, Nik. I’ve grown. And the best you could do is choose to accept whatever happiness I find. Whether you agree with it or not my _constant_ includes Bridget. So I really don’t care to hear another word about how no one is good enough for me.”

There’s a prolonged silence on the line. “Very well then,” Klaus finally speaks. “Do yourself a favor and feast your eyes on the collection of medieval portraiture in the ballroom. In those days, a talented artist required the ability to conjure the illusion of awe-inspiring beauty even where he, or rather, _she_ found none. Their very survival in a cold world was dependent upon that gift. A thousand years of a wicked ugliness can only exercise that grand misbelief, sister.” Rebekah parts her lips before exhaling softly.

* * *

 

“The car is waiting outside. Once we get to Paris we’ll work on a long-term plan.”

Bonnie shuffles down the stairs hauling a cage as Cain lugs a duffel bag close behind. “Meanwhile, you really think that everyone will buy a last minute prenuptial retreat,” she questions. “You’re welcome to come up with a better explanation,” he remarks. “Got it. It’s the best _we’ve_ got. Most of all, it’s the safest decision for everyone. Isn’t that right, Ms. Cuddles?”

Bonnie stops behind the sofa and rests the cage there to check on the white and brown rabbit inside. Cain walks up to grab the suitcase on the mat before opening the front door, discovering a man facing the other direction in a dark coat. “Hey, I’ve got the bags,” he alerts, furrowing his brows. The stranger spins around revealing himself to be Elijah, lips dripping with fresh blood.

He gives Cain a cold stare while tilting his head slightly. “I’m afraid your chauffeur is indisposed to assist with the bags. I had him for lunch.” Cain spots the driver inside the town car, head lying against the blood-streaked window. His sharp grimace falls on the original vampire candidly wiping his mouth.

“Might I suggest that you delay the trip to _Hauts-de-Seine_. My time with your elusive fiancée will not be wasted.”

“Babe, stay back in the house.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Just let me handle it alright,” Cain requests. Bonnie quickly sets the rabbit cage down on the sofa before storming over to find Elijah at her door. She’s taken aback but stands her ground beside Cain, replicating his frown. “Elijah Mikaelson. Is there a family trip going on in London,” she inquires.

“Pardon me?”

“I know Rebekah’s here.”

“Is she now? I hadn’t the slightest bit of knowledge let alone concern for her whereabouts. If this is true I’ve been spared the annoyingly desperate murmuring of the Hollow.”

Bonnie angles her head with skepticism. “The Hollow,” she queries. “Forgive me. I gather you aren’t familiar with New Orleans witch history nor do you hold any awareness of my family’s six-year quagmire. Invite me in and we shall have a chat all about it,” Elijah reclaims, earning a mirthless laugh. “Clearly you aren’t the sane one out of your siblings these days,” Bonnie concludes.

“She doesn’t involve herself in vampire business anymore,” Cain voices before rocking his head from side to side. “And my inability to get into your head proves you can’t be trusted. So how about you avoid a messy situation and just leave us alone.” Elijah keeps his eyes trained to Bonnie’s. “My goodness look at how rude your intended is to a perfect guest. Attempting to pick and prod at an unconsenting mind, waving around vile threats. I would’ve expected a regular prince charming of sorts, but I suppose the psychic dating pool is fairly disappointing and very… _dead_.”

“You know that we’re psychic?”

Elijah clicks his tongue while extending his arms. “Bonnie, darling. I know your birthday, favorite color, reoccurring nightmares…” The words sizzle on his tongue for a moment. “Essentially everything down to the last thread of this tedious Bethany Garrett fabrication. Now considering I am on a uniquely tight schedule I would advise you to allow me entrance.”

A loud crack of thunder strikes as heavy rain begins pouring down onto him. “Or perhaps you might join me out here where the weather is most pleasant.” Bonnie becomes overwhelmed as her foresight draws her into the distance, showing her a murder of crows sitting in three open windows. Distant screams fill the air as voices echo within her mind. _Maybe it’s a warning from the devil. You need to quiet your mind, Bonnie. Only then can you make the best decisions for yourself. I’ve trusted you to do that this far and I’m trusting you now._ She suddenly readjusts to the current time, boring right into Elijah’s raven eyes as Cain is busy rattling off threats. “You can take your Tom Ford look and sick horse you rode on up out of here before I barbecue your psychotic ass.”

“He’s the crows.”

Both men give their full attention to the woman finally recovering from her trance. “You have to be the reason for my dreams. The devil’s messenger, the devil himself.” Bonnie steps up to Elijah fiercely, baring her teeth. “ _Why_ are you here,” she questions firmly. He challenges her stone gaze, half smirking.

* * *

 

Underneath the clear Maya sky Bridget and Rebekah lie in a canopy, hands tightly clasped. A heavy silence weighs on them as they gaze at the scattered clouds hanging above the riviera. “Are you gonna tell me about that phone call?” Rebekah continues fiddling with Bridget’s fingers. “The one where my unduly critical brother voiced his self-centered concerns about our relationship? Hadn’t planned on it.” The pureblood turns on her side to face the original. “I can handle it you know. It doesn’t always have to be about defending my honor.”

She watches as the blonde maneuvers her body to parallel her own. “You wouldn’t understand. He thinks that once again I’m blinded by charm, and that I’ll end up heartbroken and forever alone due to my status as a walking curse. More importantly, he bets on it so that I can remain at his side for another thousand years.”

“I didn’t expect to win him over easily, but I also didn’t think I’d be facing the old Klaus Mikaelson.”

“Sometimes I think sacrificing everything for Hope made him a better man. Then other times I’m reminded that a narcissistic bastard lies beneath all the good.”

Bridget provides an empathetic gaze. “Look, I know how close you two are. You’re clearly his favorite and like with Freya, there’s a natural instinct to protect the little sister.” She blinks a couple times and reaches up to stroke golden tresses before settling at the base of Rebekah’s neck. “You know how I feel about family matters. I have to respect that he will protect you from anything.”

“And he has to respect that I hold ownership over my life. I won’t answer to him or anyone else for that matter. I won’t allow him to ruin this for us. Family or not.”

Bridget stares at Rebekah until both sides of her head are overcome by a deep pressure. She squeezes her eyes shut meriting the vampire’s immediate concern. “What is it?” Bridget grasps her forehead before opening her eyes. “Just a little headache,” she notifies, dropping her hand with a sigh. “Nothing a seaside getaway can’t cure.”

Rebekah’s features quickly grow rueful. “I’m sorry. This isn’t supposed to be about petty sibling drama,” she apologizes. Bridget supplies a sweet smile. “It’s gonna take more than that to stress me out alright? You’ve got your badass convertible parked out front and I have a little shopping list. There’s a place downtown that has just what I need if you wanna take a ride on the wild side,” she proposes. An optimistic smirk spreads across Rebekah’s face in no time.

* * *

 

“Why are you trying to ruin my peace, Elijah?”

Cain wraps his arms around Bonnie to hold her back. “Hey, calm down. You know you’re a little Firestarter when you get worked up, Bon. Deep breaths alright,” he directs. His fiancée inhales sharply before exhaling an unsteady breath. “How sweet,” Elijah purrs. “You’ve found someone loyal enough to carry your true identity in secrecy.” Cain glares at him with irritation.

“She didn’t have a choice. I knew who she was the first time we ever touched. But it was up to her to trust me with that and her life. Monsters like you are the reason she has to hide her roots.”

Elijah lifts his chin. “I see. And if I was to ensure her continued peace for a small one-time fee,” he inquires. An incredulous breath escapes Cain as he shakes his head. “Doubt it. I don’t trust you and neither does she.” Bonnie breaks out of his protective arms. “Just tell me what you want,” she demands. Elijah glances at Cain before gripping the door frame to lean in close.

“My only necessity is the tiniest drop of your blood. Bennett witches are a distinct line, their magic creates a foundation and their blood is the key for some of the world’s most powerful spells. There is an ancient object that calls for the very substance that runs through your veins. One that could undoubtedly end the curse upon my siblings and I, a _curse_ that will descend upon this earth like a plague should its rules be defied. You feared a Mikaelson family gathering near your home. In our current state, I don’t suspect you’d like to witness the real consequences of that ever taking place. I welcome my mind to your hands if you refuse to take my word.”

Cain shakes his head fervently. “No. We can’t trust him, B. In the last several seconds of his babbling I’ve seen plenty probability for a trap.” While keeping her vigilant eyes on Elijah, Bonnie grasps her fiancé’s hand before finally meeting his gaze. “Baby, despite everything he could be telling the truth. I need to know for sure, so you have to trust me okay,” she implores.

_I’m not making any deals with the devil. We let him in, lure him into a trap, and get the truth on our own terms._

Cain searches Bonnie’s eyes quietly. _Time for Ms. Cuddles to get some exercise._ They both look to Elijah who’s studying their silent exchange. “You have to promise that no one gets hurt,” Bonnie stipulates. Elijah stands up straight. “A deal is a deal. I’m only here for the sole means to escape an unfavorable predicament. Truthfully, I have no desire to end your precious life,” he reclaims.

The couple moves backwards to the staircase. “You can come in,” Bonnie utters. With an understated smirk, Elijah lifts one foot past the threshold at a time while staring at his hosts. “However, I’m not too fond of your impending husband. Perhaps he could provide the motivation necessary for your cooperation.” Dark veins ripple around his eyes as he prepares to attack. He darts forward but his targets teleport to the front door before forcing him down with telekinesis. He snarls at them, baring his fangs while on his hands and knees.

“Bite, Ms. Cuddles!”

Elijah whips his head in time to catch a blurry furball latching onto his face. As the creature tears through his skin he yelps while bolting into the oval mirror on his left, cracking it before zipping in the opposite direction and crashing into the kitchen table. “Retreat, girl!” Bonnie hurries over to the scene as her rabbit hops off of Elijah’s weakened body. Cain soon appears beside her and cringes at the bloody image. “That is nasty.” Bonnie turns to him doggedly. “He should be out for a little bit. That should give us enough time to gather up the torture weapons.”

* * *

 

A red Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto cruises down a four-lane freeway with an open view of the coastline. The chopped electronic beat of an alternative pop song rumbles from the speakers as Bridget throws her hands in the air. “Woo,” she cheers excitedly. Rebekah grins while shooting her a glance, hair flowing in the Mediterranean breeze. “Shipping old Rose Red to the coast clearly wasn’t a bad idea,” she projects over the noise. Bridget tries to contain her own grin, shaking her head as she looks away. “How could you _not_ let your hair down in this baby?” She plants her hands on the dashboard and leans forward while rubbing it jokingly.

“I’m gonna call you Rosie.”

“You know, this could be an everyday thing. Just you, me, and _Rosie_ on a spontaneous stretch of road going wherever it may take us.”

Bridget flops back in her seat and rolls her head over to Rebekah. “I kinda thought that’s what we’ve been doing for the past two months.” The blonde gives her girlfriend a vulnerable gaze. “Two months on an adventure and it still doesn’t feel real,” she admits, shaking her head. “I keep pinching myself just to believe it.”

“Well, you don’t need to do that anymore. I meant what I said, Rebekah. I want a future with you, whatever it may be. Nothing’s getting in the way of that.”

Rebekah blinks before leaning in to brush her lips against Bridget’s. The witch grasps the vampire’s cheek to deepen the kiss until the car swerves a bit causing them to jump apart. “Eyes on the road,” she commands, inciting their laughter. Rebekah looks ahead and checks the rearview mirror, noticing a black sedan hanging behind with tinted windows.

“Bloody hell,” she curses, annoyed.

“What?”

“I’ve failed to mention Klaus’s irritating bevy of spies. One of which is tailing us now.”

“Seriously?”

Bridget promptly sits up to check the side mirror and Rebekah blows out a breath as she grips the steering wheel tighter. “Now that you see how overrated family is, all I need is for you to trust me,” the latter requests before looking at the former. She presses down on the gas pedal and switches lanes to pass two other cars. The black sedan follows suit to close in on the little, red convertible. As they approach a break in the median strip Rebekah strategically slows her car causing the spy to punch on their brakes before swerving into a horizontal position. She drifts into the opening and crosses over to the opposite side in a U-turn before taking off. The black sedan sits in the middle of the street blocking traffic as Rebekah and Bridget giggle on an adrenaline high.

* * *

 

Bridget and Rebekah enter a dimly-lit shop crowded with antiques on walls, shelves, and in glass cases. “Lovely. This must be where supernatural objects go to perish quietly.” Bridget cautiously touches a gold candelabrum while Rebekah peers up at the red lanterns dangling from the ceiling.

“If the talk is true, some of these are cursed. I’m only picking up on a neglected family heirloom with this one though.”

“Misleading advertisement and fraudulent transactions. Just the welcoming we needed on our first day in the old town.”

Bridget flashes Rebekah a tickled grin. “Relax, princess. I’m just here for the herbs. Word on the street is that they make for _the_ best tonics.” She offers her hand to the blonde who reluctantly gives in with a restrained smile, allowing herself to be pulled down an aisle. When she reaches the correct section she begins raking through the shelf chock-full of bottled herbs.

“Chamomile, Sage…Ginger Root.”

Rebekah grabs a small jar and offers it to Bridget. “Rosemary, Lavender, and Feverfew.” The witch accepts the item graciously. “Thanks, babe,” she chirps. “I’m quite familiar with your list so why don’t you let me handle the task,” the vampire insists as her girlfriend tilts her head.

“Rebekah…”

“I know. But there’s no shame in allowing yourself to be cared for. Just let me take care of you, Bridget.”

Rebekah tilts her head softly and Bridget studies her before surrendering with a nod. “Okay, you win. I’ll play the princess just this once if it really makes you feel better,” the pureblood remarks, lifting her chin. “Chivalry in designer heels right,” the original retorts.

Good-natured laughter fills the space before they separate. As Rebekah focuses on scouting the herbs, Bridget wanders over to a wall adorned with multiple mirrors. Spotting a crack in an oval-shaped one, the latter draws in close to inspect it just as her nose begins bleeding. She quickly wipes the evidence away before her girlfriend emerges.

“All done and ready for checkout.”

“Excelente. Let’s go.”

Together they make their way to the checkout counter occupied by an older woman with a grey streak in her wild, dark tresses. Rebekah sets three jars on the counter before Bridget adds the rest while displaying a polite smile. “Olá,” the latter greets. The clerk smiles in return as she starts ringing the items up. “Olá,” she responds.

“Como vai?”

“É um ótimo dia! Eu cheirar dinheiro americano.”

Chuckling, Bridget reaches into her jacket for her wallet as the clerk punches the register. “Your total is 50,54€ my dear.” Bridget retrieves a large bank note and offers it up. “I sure hope the tonics are worth it,” she retorts lightheartedly. “Absolutely,” the clerk reassures as she accepts the cash. However, she freezes when their hands touch and gains two pairs of uncertain eyes on her.

“Suddenly not a fan of American money are we,” Rebekah questions. The clerk parts her lips dramatically. “I had not realized you were gifted. It is rare to find that here, but I am not concerned. However, you should be.” Bridget knits her brows. “Why is that,” she queries. “I sense a dark energy surrounding you, my dear. Something restless, perhaps an omen of death. May I suggest a proper reading and cleanse,” the clerk offers, looking between the women comically. “Of course, I can provide both for a fee.” Bridget and Rebekah look at each other incredulously.

* * *

 

Within a salt boundary, Elijah sits half naked and strapped to a chair as Bonnie waves a smudge-stick around him. “Exercise the power of reason if you wish to survive this encounter. I’m a useful ally but a dangerous enemy. Or have you forgotten,” he preaches. “Huh, what’s that? I couldn’t hear you over all the screams of agony and glass breaking,” the witch taunts. She stops in front of her captive and bends down to his eye level. “The soundtrack to a cute little bunny kicking thousand-year-old vampire ass.” She smiles scornfully.

“A foul creature you’ve compelled with magic. One must conclude it was _ridiculously_ far from a fair fight.”

“Actually, Ms. Cuddles is a tulpa. I conjured her entire being with my mind, not magic. Then I trained her. So let’s try this again. You’re gonna tell me _exactly_ what you need my blood for and if not…”

Bonnie presses the burning sage to Elijah’s chest causing him to grunt. “I’m gonna _make_ you with some new toys. The venom from Ms. Cuddles was just a precaution.” He glares at her as sweat beads down his face. “I would love to see you try before inevitably reconsidering such painfully amateur methods.” She raises her eyebrows while nodding condescendingly. “Tough guy huh? Well there’s a lot you missed after your time in Mystic Falls. You have no idea of what I can do now.” Cain appears holding an ornate three-sided dagger. “Enchanted Tibetan blade coming right up.”

“Cheers to ancient Tibetan magic. There was a time when I couldn’t practice magic, a few times actually. I had to learn how to reteach myself with methods like…repetition.”

Bonnie burns Elijah’s chest again before handing the smudge-stick to Cain. “But that’s amateur right? So, I had to really dig deep and figure out the inner workings of spellcasting. Concentration, power…wanting something in the palm of your hand. Before I left Mystic Falls I didn’t know how to really let myself have what I wanted. I suffered a lot because of it but not anymore. First question, how the hell did you find me?”

“It was fairly painless with the proper resources and it would be far easier to disclose your location to those who may be… _eager_ to have the information. Perhaps your childhood friends?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Impossibly new heights. Your miraculous resurrection is one matter that has been nagging at me. How _did_ you manage to achieve it, Bonnie Bennett?”

“I believe that I’m the one asking the questions here. How did you find me?”

“You’ve grown into a truly formidable witch. Sacrificing yourself to save your friends from a terrible creature in the Armory, unleashing your psychic abilities. I would wager a holy grail of gold that you’ve optimized such power into a rebirth culminating in the creation of this Bethany character.”

“I’m not playing a character. This is the real me living the life I’ve always wanted for myself.”

“Just what Lorenzo St. John desired from what I gather. You have your reasons don’t you? You’ve devoted your mortal life to those who are selfish and ungrateful. You were even made a slave to a curse that forced you to drive a _stake_ through the heart of your great love. I understand the act of finally setting yourself free.”

Bonnie glowers at Elijah before grabbing Cain’s wrist to force the dagger into the vampire’s chest. “Bonnie,” her fiancé yells. As Elijah groans in sheer pain Bonnie holds his head up straight. “Aperire animo, aperire animo, aperire animo,” she chants. Flashes of spiders crawling on a skull and murky tears cascading from black eyes appear in her mind before a bloody hand reaches out to grasp her wrist. Regaining her full consciousness, Bonnie gasps and realizes that Cain is holding her hand with an apprehensive expression.

* * *

 

Exiting the shop labeled _MÍSTICO_ , Rebekah and Bridget approach the red convertible parked on the curb. “Isn’t it annoying how self-serving everyone is these days? Attempting to hustle unsuspecting customers without an ounce of shame,” the blonde ponders. Her girlfriend stops at the passenger side to grip the door handle. “You didn’t have to vamp out on her. There are worse ways to try to make a quick buck.” Rebekah reaches the driver’s side and tilts her head innocently. “I only compelled the greedy charlatan some manners. Of course, the theatrical intimidation was my own lovely taste of retribution. She should’ve known better than to upset my sweetheart.” Bridget lightly rolls her eyes. “She did guess that I was a witch,” she points out.

“Yes, what an amazing feat for a shopkeep that caters to _witchy_ patrons.” A few clicks of a camera catches Rebekah’s ear triggering her to still. “It appears we have some unwanted company.” In a flash, she’s across the street gripping a blonde-haired man’s throat with one hand and holding up a professional camera in the other.

“You’re my brother’s little weasel.”

She tilts her head as the spy struggles for air. “Tell me, was his seductions of favor well worth pissing off the Queen Original?” His eyes bulge out of their sockets and a devilish smirk is plastered on her face. She whooshes them to a nearby alleyway where she holds him against a wall and slams his camera onto the pavement, shattering it into several pieces.

“There. Perhaps I will feed you the rest of your intrusive little toy.”

“Hey, you don’t have to do that! I’ll back off!”

“Or _perhaps_ I will dispose of you the old fashioned way. The head or the heart? Certainly one of those contributed to your foolish misstep. Unfortunate brain damage, love of money?”

The spy shakes his head frantically. “No, please!” Bridget arrives in the alleyway and gapes at the scene. “Rebekah! What the hell,” she scolds loudly. Rebekah turns her head to regard the agitated woman. “Darling, would you prefer to ship his head or his heart back to Klaus on a silver platter,” she asks, nonchalant.

“Neither! You can’t just kill him in broad daylight for taking a few pictures!”

“This isn’t about the pictures, Bridget. It’s about control, the control Klaus believes he’s entitled to when it comes to my life. I’m simply sending him a message.”

Bridget marches over to snatch Rebekah’s hands off the man before stepping in between them. “That’s what phones, computers, and letters are for.” Still holding their unwavering gaze, she motions a hand to push the spy back against the wall as he attempts to flee. “Fine, have it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rebekah walks over to hold the spy up by the shoulders and pierces his eyes. “Your job here is done so report this back to Klaus. Until he decides to make my happiness a bloody priority I don’t give a damn about his delusional ideal of family. I want nothing more to do with him.” She tilts her head with a sarcastic smirk as blank eyes stare back at her. “That’s it, on your way.” She pats the compelled spy’s shoulders and backs up to see him off. Instinctively, she turns to Bridget who drops her shoulders with a heavy sigh.

* * *

 

“Can you tag me in now, partner? Ms. Cuddles agrees that I’m calm.” Bonnie sits on the sofa mindlessly petting the rabbit on her lap while Cain flicks a syringe a few times. “No can do, champ. Another slick comment and you’ll kill him before we can infiltrate his disturbed mind.”

He finally peers up at her. “The last dose in a big helping of concentrated vervain. If this doesn’t get him to submit then I don’t know what will.” Bonnie carefully places Ms. Cuddles on the sofa and rises to her feet. “All we’re getting is weird gothic imagery and inconsiderate notes on my past. What makes you think this will work,” she asks.

“Maybe it’s just my intuition.”

Cain turns to stride over to the kitchen where a pale and feverish Elijah watches him through red-rimmed eyes. “Alright, feeling generous yet,” the former asks as Bonnie settles at the top of the stairs, folding her arms. “You’ve devastated my body and yet the mental infiltration to steal the _dire_ information you so desperately need remains unsuccessful. You’re still free to take my word and a more merciful alternate ending to this foolishness. Of course your eyeballs will be plucked from your skull in any case.”

“Nice try but I’ll have to decline on that.”

Cain jabs the needle into Elijah’s neck and injects him with potent vervain. He tosses the syringe and grabs onto the original’s head as it nods back. Closing his eyes he focuses strictly until he finds himself in near darkness. _Only a single beam of moonlight streams in from an old window, cutting through the shadows. Elijah, accompanied by a few ghostly black-eyed figures, steps into the spotlight to stare at Cain. A pair of large, black wings slowly encloses Elijah’s body before a pair of lips settle behind Cain’s ear. A scratchy voice whispers. Lilith._

Cain gasps as his eyes spring open, alerting Bonnie. “What did you see,” she asks persistently. “More disturbing thoughts,” he answers. “It’s an unpleasant thing, delving into such a depraved and repellent mind,” Elijah quips. “I’m sure you’d like me to believe you’re big and bad on your own, but you just showed me you’re not.” Cain rotates to face Bonnie. “You were right about him being a messenger for evil. His mind is protected by a psychic called Lilith,” he reveals. She steps down into the kitchen with wide eyes. “Like the demon succubus lady notorious for stealing babies?”

“Obviously this psychic is going for a supervillain theme. She’s strong if she was able to manipulate an original vampire.”

“Strong but not impenetrable. If it’s not Elijah’s tolerance keeping us out, only psychic energy is standing in our way. We can just absorb it and see why he needs Bennett blood.”

Cain offers a hand to Bonnie. “After you, my lady.” She grasps his hand before they turn around to Elijah who’s dozing off. “Nice and slow alright? He’s already pumped full of toxins fatal to regular vampires. If we start drawing too much energy from the magic well I can’t say his original badge will save him from sudden death.” Bonnie nods accordingly. “I know. I almost learned that the hard way remember?” She reaches out to grab Elijah’s left wrist with her free hand. Cain glances at her softly before grabbing the right wrist. Within seconds their irises become an electrified blue.

* * *

 

At the excavation site, Lilith restlessly observes the men working nonstop in and around the gaping hole. Gazing out beyond the monotonous task she spots a cottage in the distance.

**_Lilith yawns flagrantly as a beautiful woman turns to her in a gold necklace and matching earrings. A baroque headdress gilds the woman’s short, thick curls and a bright red garment accentuates her curvaceous body. “What do you make of this one,” she inquires. “Simply beautiful for a noblewoman,” Lilith replies dutifully._ **

**_“Perhaps this noblewoman is exhausting a bothered mountain girl.”_ **

**_Lilith quickly shakes her head. “Nonsense. I am very much awake, Aya.” The noblewoman lifts her chin. “Very well. Remove this please.” As she rotates, Lilith aims a glance for Samara who’s weaving cloth at a loom in the corner. The servant throws her head back, pretending to snore prompting her little sister to silently scold her. Smirking deviously, she turns her attention to unlatching the gold necklace, but a hand swiftly grasps her own. “Has my husband been fair to you,” Aya questions. Lilith raises her eyebrows. “Fair,” she reiterates._ **

**_“Yes. Your father was indebted to him before his death, you and your sister are only here to repay those debts. Nothing more.”_ **

**_“I have not laid in your bed, Aya. I will not. He has never even seen mine. I…”_ **

**_“Then I am content with knowledge of his failure,” Aya interjects, spinning around. “I have endured many of his indiscretions, forced to forgive yet always reminded in my own home. As I remain the dutiful wife suppressing my desires he is free to give into his whenever he pleases.” She brings Lilith’s hand to her chest while gazing into her intent eyes. “I wish to experience what he desires most, the one thing he cannot have according to you.” Lilith parts her lips at the bold request and looks to a traumatized Samara. At Samara’s horror, Lilith’s lips slowly curve into a delighted grin before she looks back to Aya._ **

Lilith stands in front of the ancient cottage, taking in the wooden roof and stone foundation. She carefully pushes on the timeworn door to step inside the dark space. An unkempt fireplace and what appears to be a straw bed are the only notable furniture. Lilith ambles to the elevated bed and looks down at the dusty cloth draped over the straw.

**_Heavy panting fills the bedroom as Lilith and Aya lie shoulder to shoulder underneath a bright covering. “If only I had known how rapturous an act was, I would not have denied myself the pleasure,” the noblewoman remarks, cheeks flushed. Her lover chuckles before turning on her side to face her. “I felt the same once,” she replies, petting damp curls. Aya turns her head to gaze at Lilith in awe. “Where have you learned such allurement,” the former asks. “It is a secret I cannot tell,” the latter whispers._ **

**_Aya abruptly sits up to tug her into a passionate kiss before pulling away. “Then let me share with you one of my secrets. Sometime ago I buried heaps of gold in hopes of beginning anew as a woman freed from restraints. But I was naïve and spoiled, a cowardly new wife. I know now it is pure fantasy to believe I could survive without a man in this world. Unlike you.”_ **

**_Aya caresses Lilith’s cheek. “Perhaps in some way, this is my fate to provide your freedom instead. I would like for you to unearth the gold and repay your father’s debt. Free yourself and your sister, reclaim your brother and bring him up properly so that neither of you will know my plight,” she appeals, swiping her thumb across full lips. “See to your grand vision coming to fruition, Ishtar-ibbi.” Lilith stares at Aya wordlessly._ **

Lilith finally redirects her eyes to the fireplace and crosses the short distance to rest a hand on it. While meditating, magical energy suddenly tingles her senses. Quirking a brow she runs her hand along the bricks as she crouches down. She reaches into the fireplace and takes hold of a mystery object before pulling it out. A glass jar of yellowish-white ashes lies within her grasp.

“Ms. Vogel.”

Lilith turns her head coldly to find a young worker loitering in the doorway. “There’s something you’re gonna want to see,” the man claims.

* * *

 

“Do you think the hold on him is broken,” Bonnie asks while holding Elijah’s face in her hands. Cain is at the counter pouring himself some bourbon. “Only one way to find out.” He shifts his position and saunters over to them before taking a sip of his drink. “Take a whack at it.” An exhausted and agitated Elijah groans in response.

“I recommend you to consider the stakes of taking a _whack_ at it. Opening this door could very well cost you your treasured life.”

Bonnie tilts her head at him. “Because of Lilith right? Well, I seriously doubt you were planning on sparing my life anyway, _especially_ under a creepy psychic’s influence. I’ll just take my chances and see about this curse of yours,” she concludes. “Just throwing it out there, I can confirm a creepy window in his mind rather than a door. Semantics say we’re good,” Cain quips. Bonnie closes her eyes to concentrate and instantly obtains rapid flashes of fresh memories.

_Elijah being charmed by Lilith at dinner. Passionately kissing her in bed. Allowing her to feed on his energy in the shower. Compelling two men to stab each other as she laughs gleefully. Joining her in bed to feed on a woman. Fighting her in the dining room before she destroys his Red Door. Listening to her speak about her five-thousand-year curse. Presenting three orphans for her to feed on. Talking on the phone to Celine about Bonnie. Informing Lilith of Abby’s death and Bonnie’s true status as living. The final vision lingers._

_Elijah lies in bed facing Lilith as she caresses his face. “You want to be free of any attachments to your family don’t you? The suit, the night prowling. The loyalty…me.” She briefly raises her eyebrows for emphasis. “The things you’ve honored for centuries to forget and the things that threaten to tarnish them.” Her lover runs his fingers down her back. “How annoyingly observant of you,” he retorts, earning a smirk. “Family is weakness and my devotion to a thousand years of madness was pathetic.”_

_“But it wasn’t in vain. By design it brought me to you so that I could be the one to save you from your most tragic flaw. Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”_

_“Of course. We find reasons every day.”_

_“So you believe in being an author of your own fate.”_

_Elijah takes Lilith’s hand from his cheek. “With you, there is no doubt,” he declares before kissing it. She grins before swallowing. “Then allow me to remain by your side. After you call your sister tomorrow I would like to show you a secret part of the mayor’s collection. I know that we haven’t talked anything other than possibilities for after I rid you and your siblings of the Hollow but…I believe our partnership to be a valuable one. I want you as my dark knight, my confidant through war and revenge. When I take my throne and rule over earth I would like you to help preserve my crown.” Elijah bores into her serious eyes. “You would have me resume a noble role of undying loyalty despite the monster you’ve seen me to be,” he questions._

_“You are no more a monster than I, the literal devil. I don’t expect you to be noble or eternally loyal to me. However, I recognize the burning desire for freedom when I see it. I think you’ve realized the only place where you can truly embrace that. Doesn’t hurt that you would be at the forefront of a demonic legion.” Lilith smirks artfully inciting Elijah to do the same._

Physically and mentally overwhelmed, Bonnie rips herself away from the memory. “Oh my god,” she exhales. Cain knits his brows. “What did you see,” he questions. His fiancée stumbles backwards and grabs her head in distress. “The devil, my mom. Oh my god he killed my mom.” The vision of the crows lurking strikes her down to her knees. Cain’s glass shatters as he hurries over and drops to hold Bonnie in his arms. “Hey, hey. I got you alright? I got you.” He gently pets her hair, allowing her to sob hysterically as she clutches his sweater.

* * *

 

Lilith considers the large mass of sediment within the gaping hole as the middle-aged worker stands beside her. “It’s solid rock. We’ve tried every gadget in the toolbox and every technique known to man,” he informs. “Not every technique. Step aside,” she commands. The worker raises his eyebrows with uncertainty. “Everyone move back,” he orders, gesturing a hand. His men disperse while Lilith holds out her hand.

**_Way out in the desert, Samara watches Lilith digging tirelessly through sand. “You have laid with Sheepskin’s wife,” the former deadpans. “Yes, you have reminded me only every moment since the transgression,” the latter retorts. “You have laid with his wife, abandoned your duties, and now you are the thief snatching his gold,” Samara exclaims anxiously._ **

**_“It is not his gold, sister. It belongs to Aya who has kindly offered it to me.”_ **

**_“Aya is Sheepskin’s wife which means by law what belongs to her, belongs to him. You have now taken many things that belong to him. He will torture you before the slaying!”_ **

**_Lilith wearily halts her work to peer up at Samara. “He will not. Aya will never speak a word to preserve her own life and we will exchange this gold for our freedom,” she claims, grinning ear to ear. “Do you not see the wonderful life that awaits us, Sami? We could repay all of father’s debts and take our little brother far away from here. I will have my tavern, you your shop of fragrances and jewelry. Little Enki will have countless animals to tame for his spectacle. Allow yourself to envision more for our lives, sister. Please.”_ **

**_Samara gazes at Lilith before dropping to her knees with a huff. “I am not content with being property and I do not condone your reckless schemes,” she mutters while digging. Her sibling chuckles lightly before resuming her own digging. The dusky sunlight reflects on the gold peeking out of the sand, encouraging the women to quickly dust it off uncovering more. Lilith tugs on the object and unearths a small, golden chalice._ **

**_“Then I will resort to gaining your approval with gifts,” she remarks, holding it up. Samara marvels at the shining gold while Lilith brightens with hope._ **

Lilith gradually raises her extended hand to lift the rocky mass as the workers gape in awe of the floating matter. “I sense powerful ancient magic and well-preserved Viking ash, a truly provocative yet futile combination. One can only spoil the other when outside forces are applied.” She clenches her open palm into a fist, instantly creating an explosion of rock and dust. The workers yell while attempting to shield themselves, but the matter abruptly pauses midair. They lower their arms to look up at the golden chalice shining in the center of the slow moving particles.

In a split second the Cup of a Thousand Suns catapults right into Lilith’s grasp like a magnet. “Thank you, gentlemen. It’s been a pleasure.” Without another word she wheels around and strolls away from the excavation site. The workers all watch in confusion until rocks begin pelting them violently. Lilith smirks roguishly as shouts of agony fill the air.

* * *

 

The tiny, red convertible navigates through the entrance gate and pulls up to the front doors of the Case de Santa Maria. After shifting the car into park, Rebekah looks over at Bridget who’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for the night. I’ll get started on arrangements for a new place to stay.” She receives no answer and releases a knowing sigh.

“Are you really giving me the silent treatment?”

“You almost crossed a line and killed a guy but no, I’m not ignoring you.”

Bridget finally peers up at Rebekah. “I just need to take a breather okay.” Without waiting for a response she opens the door and circles the front of the car to enter the mansion. Her concerned girlfriend hastily follows. “Alright. I’ll whip up your witchy tea, steeped to perfection of course,” she insists.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Rebekah surges in front of Bridget to halt her movement. “If you’re still peeved about me handling that spineless toady then at least give me a good scolding. I’m fully prepared to never hear the end of it.” She notices conflicted emotions playing across the younger woman’s features and moves in closer. “Please just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I tried to ignore it but the fighting with Klaus…it’s not helping.”

“We won’t be bothered now that…”

“No, Rebekah,” Bridget interjects, shaking her head. “Something happened today, something I can’t explain.” Darkened blue eyes search her own for clarity. “Then _try_ to explain it to me,” Rebekah pleads softly. Bridget licks her lips. “A woman ran into me at that café back in London. And when we touched I…felt something. It was a feeling I’ve only experienced with my parents and my sister, my family. She must’ve felt something too because she ran like I was the devil. And my day has been pretty crazy ever since so…yeah.” She shakes her head prompting Rebekah to cradle her face.

“Are you telling me that you’ve met a long lost relative?”

The weighty flapping of wings breaks their intense eye contact, drawing them to a murder of crows sitting in three open windows. One bird offers a hoarse caw and the others begin clicking in unison. A stream of blood trickles from Bridget’s nostril and Rebekah turns to face her upon identifying the metallic scent. “Bridget, you’re bleeding.” Bridget wipes at her nose and inspects the blood on her fingers before slowly peering up into disquieted eyes. A thick fog besieges her brain, throwing her off balance until Rebekah secures her arms around her.

“Bridget.”

Chestnut eyes disappear into her head as her body becomes racked with violent tremors. “No, no! Bridget!” Rebekah lowers the unresponsive witch to the floor and cautiously turns her onto her side. While holding her jarring girlfriend in place, Rebekah whips her head to the crows delivering their harsh cries. Tears prick at her eyes as she helplessly looks down at Bridget’s spastic body.

* * *

 

A grief-stricken Bonnie lies motionless in bed, blankly staring at the outpouring of rain through her window. Cain leans over her body to place a delicate kiss on her head. “Hey. I’m gonna go lock our original dickhead up at the Kestrel. I’ll be back soon.” His fiancée turns over rapidly, shaking her head. “No. I don’t want you alone with him.”

“He’s desiccated, B. He can’t hurt me and the safest place to keep him is there.”

Bonnie wipes her face and snatches the covers back to rise up. “Desiccating him that way is only temporary. I’m going with you,” she asserts. Cain immediately grabs her forearms to hold her in place. “He won’t be kicking until morning alright? You can stop his heart _then_ when you’re well.” He explores the torment swimming in Bonnie’s eyes while using his thumbs to wipe her tears.

“I didn’t catch the flu, I just found out that my mom is dead. I will never be _well_ again.”

Cain tilts his head sullenly as Bonnie inhales deeply to straighten up. “And the vampire responsible for it is housing an evil spirit in his body while being seduced by my wicked ancestor, the actual devil. We’re dealing with powerful deadly originals, Cain. How can we _possibly_ survive this?” She shakes her head as he grips her shoulders, dipping his head with a determined look.

“Hey, I need you to trust me. We can get through anything as long as we’re together. I swear this to you.” He licks his lips. “Look, I bought us some time with Lilith since she’s expecting a personal delivery of your blood. For right now we need to figure out what to do with Elijah.”

Bonnie sighs while considering their options. “We obviously can’t kill him. That would start a war with the Mikaelsons and release part of an ancient spirit,” she states. Cain nods along. “I agree. The only thing we _can_ do is turn him over to his family and explain the Armageddon situation. I’m sure they’ll be reasonable when it comes to our crazy circumstances,” he reclaims.

“A gesture of good faith for a possible alliance that will _definitely_ end our simple life. Worst day ever.”

“You’re a Bennett witch with their brother under your foot and a relative plotting mass destruction of biblical proportions. I think they’ll keep a secret if you ask them to.”

“Yeah. I guess I could quite literally tell Klaus Mikaelson to burn in hell and it would probably happen,” Bonnie remarks, earning a chuckle.

“No one wants to be involved in other people’s business, but this is a necessary evil, babe.”

“I know. I’ll reach out to Klaus tomorrow with a ‘ _Surprise, I’m not dead but I am holding your psychotic brother hostage_ ’ message. Now I’m only worried about one other thing.”

“Bridget.”

Bonnie tilts her head, displaying a heart-wrenching expression. “Grams, my dad, and now my mom. Every Bennett I know is dead, so her safety is a priority. I can’t lose any more family.” Cain examines her closely. “I know what you’re thinking but staying away won’t keep her safe. You might need each other now more than ever,” he proclaims softly. “Just help me create something to watch over her please.” Sighing, Cain engulfs Bonnie in a warm hug, feeling her arms wrap around him as she burrows into his torso. He kisses her head and gently rocks her from side to side.

* * *

 

**ELIJAH MIKAELSON**

_I have the Bennett blood. Our plans are secure but there is a family matter I must tend to first._

 

**LILITH VOGEL**

_Don’t make me wait too long. I’m dangerous when unoccupied._

 

Lilith sets her phone down on the table and lifts the Cup of a Thousand Suns to admire it. She’s perched in a window seat on a luxurious private jet. An almond-eyed stewardess appears to present a platter of a heart, liver, and intestines. “Dinner is served, Ms. Vogel.” She sets the plate down, flinging her bouncy curls. Lilith rests a hand on top of the woman’s and grins up at her. “I’m in the mood for good company. What do you think,” she inquires, caressing her skin sensuously. “I…I would like that,” the stewardess replies, blushing. Lilith tilts her head confidently, eyes blackening.

“I’m sure you would,” she retorts, reaching up to tug on the woman’s blue ascot.


	18. City Of The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the French Quarter a celebration is raging on for the crowning of a new Queen. While Freya and Keelin enjoy the festivities at home with family, Jordan and Hope are abducted. Meanwhile, a violent confrontation between the wolves leads Sharon to launch an investigation and unlikely partnership with Lauren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter takes place on the same day as the last but it focuses on New Orleans. There are two guest appearances from past characters so I'm excited to hear any thoughts on them. Next chapter all the Mikaelson siblings will be present and there are some reunions happening which I'm also excited to show. As always I hope you enjoy another update :)
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1) AJR - Burn The House Down: Sharon and Josh talk at Rousseau's until Paige storms in.
> 
> 2) MISSIO - I See You: Jordan talks to Keelin and Freya talks to Hope.
> 
> 3) Tamer - Beautiful Crime: Lauren tells Sharon about her history and gives the evidence results; Jordan wakes up imprisoned with Hope.
> 
> 4) SOHN - Ransom Notes: Rachel reveals herself as Cassie; Laetitia tells Sharon and Lauren about Lenore.
> 
> 5) Glass Animals - Toes: Sharon questions Lenore; Keelin talks to Hayley about Jordan and Hope until Sharon shows up with Lenore.
> 
> 6) Cobi - Underneath: Sharon tells Freya and Keelin about the demons; Cassie prepares Jordan and Hope for her sacrificial ritual.
> 
> 7) Richard Walters - I Won't: Everyone winds down at the Mikaelson compound.
> 
> 8) Hozier - Shrike: Sharon visits Lauren at the hospital.
> 
> http://abrighteyedbandit.tumblr.com/

Jaunty trumpets and bouncing drums roar from every direction of the French Quarter. Citizens and tourists alike cheer for the vibrant characters parading through the streets. Up on the balcony of the Mikaelson compound, Freya twirls Mikaela as they chuckle joyously. “Wow. You have some serious moves. Mama’s gotta watch out.”

“Auntie Bex says I’m just as good as any princess. I’m a natural!”

Freya hoists Mikaela up onto her hip and takes hold of her hand. “That you are. You’re my special little princess,” she attests, rocking them side to side. The child tilts her head sheepishly. “Do you think I could become a queen someday, Mama?” Freya raises two playful eyebrows while smirking. “You’re the precious daughter of a Mikaelson witch and a Malraux wolf. You can be anything that you want to be. All you have to _do_ …is just want it.” She releases Mikaela’s hand to tap her chin, inciting a giggle. “And I will make sure you have it. Promise.” Her daughter shakes her head.

“You can’t give me the crown, Mama. The people have to choose their queen. All the _best_ queens are chosen by their people.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right. Forget I even mentioned it. Besides, all of the people from every corner of the city would happily choose you as their queen, Mama stepping in or not. Because you, my little witch, are our greatest source of peace…joy…and hope. Always remember that okay?”

Mikaela nods accordingly. “Uncle Klaus was king once wasn’t he,” she suddenly asks. Freya furrows her brows. “What do you know about that,” she queries, gaining a shrug. “Hope told me the story about a wolf king and his princess,” Mikaela informs. Freya stares at the girl until she feels a twisting in her belly. A short thud soon follows, diverting her attention to the tiny being inside of her.

“Are you okay, Mama?”

Freya peers up into concerned hazel eyes before curving her parted lips into a sweet grin. “Yeah. I think I just felt your baby sister move around for the first time.” Mikaela instantly lights up at the news. “Can I feel it,” she inquires excitedly. “Well, based on what I’ve read in the baby books you won’t be able to just yet. But I suppose that can’t stop us from trying,” Freya resolves.

She lowers Mikaela to her feet and brings her little hand to her belly, gently resting her own hand on top. After a moment the child looks up at her with a dimpled grin. “I can feel her, Mama. She’s growing bigger.” Keelin steps out onto the balcony, making her presence known with a bright smile. “Mind if I join,” she asks. Two pairs of eyes fall on her as she comes over to place a hand on top of the pile. Freya’s joy spreads across her features as Keelin casts a loving gaze upon her.

Inside the compound Jordan nervously approaches Hope’s door. She peeks in the room where the tribrid is reclining on the bed, earphones in as she holds up her phone. Black stones levitate around her. “I know. This week has felt like forever away from home. I’m just glad I’m leaving tomorrow.” Jordan slumps her shoulders a bit before Hope liberates a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, you don’t know the half of it. My mom wants to keep pretending that one day soon we’ll be this big happy family again but what does that even mean? My entire life I’ve been sent away from my dad. I barely have any memories with my family and the ones I do have…”

The black stones plummet to the bed as Hope sighs, rocking her head. “I’m done fighting.” She pauses as a girl chirps on her phone screen. “Yeah, yeah. Well if you find some magical answer to my problem then let me know.” She flops back on the mattress with a bounce. “Of course I’m kidding. You’d get kicked out of school for going near dark magic and my mom would kill me.”

Jordan leans her head back against the wall, sighing deeply.

* * *

 

At Rousseau’s, Sharon rests her head in one hand while scrolling through her phone. Suddenly, she sits up and drains the little contents of her glass. Josh raises his eyebrows as he wipes the bar counter down. “You’re in a partying mood. No beads,” he states inquisitively. Sharon rolls her aching neck before looking at him. “I have a coronation to attend smack dab in the middle of Jackson Square where I’ll be judged and gossiped about by Quarter witches for giving up my crown too easily. The flamboyant costumes and tipsy cheers just aren’t gonna do it for me today.”

“So will you miss being the _Queen_?”

“This is my first drink in a month and I’m nursing it along with nerves I’ve acquired from the job. I give my blessing to anyone strong enough to handle that type of pressure.”

Josh tilts his head with a sympathetic gaze. “If it’s any consolation I just so happen to be hiring. Although you’re _clearly_ overqualified you would love the laid-back vibes of bartending.” Sharon chuckles and provides a grateful smile as Lauren plops down on the stool beside her. “I’m not so sure _the_ Queen would be a good fit but nice try, Joshy,” the doctor remarks.

“Ah, the Caped Crusader to the rescue. For the record, we have cool benefits here. Will it be the regular?”

Lauren plants her eyes on Sharon with a charming grin. “I’ll have whatever she’s having. Your highness,” she greets, bowing her head. The witch offers a small, slightly uncomfortable smile in response. “Caped Crusader,” she addresses. Paige barges in through the doors and marches over to a table of three men. “So you lowlifes set foot in the city just to play sick pranks,” she interrogates, throwing a severed hand down. “You made a big mistake leaving this on my doorstep!” The men look at the partially transformed hand equipped with a moonlight ring on a finger.

One short, muscular man rises from his chair to size Paige up. “You better watch your tone, Queen Bee. We’re only here for the parties and we’re sure as hell not your little…”

“Domesticated sellouts? That’s what you believe enough to stamp on my front door right? Stupid choice for a stray.” Her eyes shift to a bright gold just before Josh intervenes at light speed. She frees her canine teeth to bite the vampire but is swiftly forced back into a wall. Sharon tramps over to her with an outstretched hand. “Control yourself. What the hell is your problem?”

“Why don’t you ask that twisted mutt? His pack left the swamp just to start a war they’ll never win.”

“You’re not acting like much of a representative for wolves. I thought you were supposed to show some hospitality,” the man pokes. Josh picks the severed hand up from the table. “Uh…maybe this could explain a few things,” he proffers. Lauren comes over to take the body part from him and inspects it before locking eyes with Sharon.

* * *

 

“I’m no forensic pathologist but that hand was freshly chopped off with purpose. Someone had it in for a wolf.”

Sharon, Josh, and Lauren sit at the table previously occupied by the men. “Remind me not to ever get involved during happy hour and an impending full moon,” the vampire quips. “Those bayou wolves have no reason to waste time on this when every bar in the city is open for business today. I have a feeling that someone might be stirring the pot because of the festivities,” the witch concludes. “Nothing sets the tone like a good ol’ bloody pack war. Points for creativity,” the doctor retorts.

“So like _who_ would target a wolf on Paige’s level? Seems pretty crazy.”

“I don’t know. Who has the most to gain from the drama and bloodshed?”

Josh and Lauren stare at Sharon with no answers as a phone starts chiming away. The latter pulls the device out of her coat pocket and brings it to her ear. “Sharon Vance speaking.” She listens for a moment before frowning. “What?” As she pauses again her companions watch intently. “Of course. I’ll be there right away.” She ends the call and tucks the phone in her pocket.

“More wolf business. Apparently, Stuart Ferguson received a tongue in a box and interesting choice words vandalized on his car this morning. He’s convinced it’s related to a certain lycanthropic gang and wants my help.”

Josh presents a bewildered look. “Okay, it’s officially Freaky Friday.” Sharon nods plainly. “First, Ferguson gets a nasty message. Now, Paige gets a severed hand shipped to her clubhouse with _sellout_ attached to her good name. Somebody is targeting faction leaders on my friend’s coronation day which makes it my business. Nothing can ruin the peace this parade symbolizes.”

“Well, considering Marcel hasn’t been the best friend to wolves he could wind up with an eyeball and a _See No Evil_ poem. I can pass on a warning, tell him to keep an eye out for trouble. Pun intended.”

Sharon rises from her chair. “If he’s the next target his headquarters will be the likely point of interest,” she states. Josh nods accordingly. “Got it,” he replies. Lauren stands up quickly. “Not to toot my own horn but you could probably use my expertise. I’ve been studying wolves for years with a special forces background,” she informs. “The Caped Crusader. Sweet skill set not limited to A1 gaydar and impressive ninja moves,” Josh quips. Sharon tilts her head incredulously and Lauren mirrors her with a partly amused look.

“What do you say? A joint peacetime effort?”

* * *

 

Keelin rummages in the liquor cabinet as Jordan leans against the dining table. “Do you think Aunt Freya’s siblings will ever get to be together again,” the latter asks. Her guardian wheels around, holding a wine bottle. “That’s the plan,” she retorts, quirking a brow. “Yeah but do _you_ believe it will really happen, that everything can be fixed,” the teen asks again. Keelin crosses the short distance to place the bottle on the table. “Sweetie, they’ve been around for a _long_ time. They fight for family like nothing else in this world so yeah, I do see a future where they’ll find their way back to each other. Always and forever.” Jordan nods quietly before lowering her head. Keelin tilts her own curiously. “What’s got you asking,” she questions, earning sullen eyes on her.

“I was just thinking about how no one around here seems to stop fighting for the people they love. _You_ , Aunt Freya. Hayley. I…wish I could be more like that and actually help in some way.”

Keelin cups Jordan’s cheeks. “You’re a fighter too. I see so much of Collins when I look at you,” she proclaims, rocking her head. “The way you protect and teach Mikaela, the way you care for everyone else. As long as you’re a part of this family I have hope. I know I’m not the only one.” Jordan inhales deeply while gazing into impassioned eyes.

 _Hope_.

Outside on the balcony, Hayley and Mikaela observe the parade down below. “Do you see that giant fairy godmother? I wish I had wings like hers! They’re so pretty,” the child exclaims, pointing to a large sparkling float. “They’re pretty but very _bold_. You sure she’s not a bossy butterfly queen,” the woman asks. Mikaela tilts her head in consideration. “Hmm. She could be both. A fairy godmother can be anything she wants.” Hayley nods while chuckling. “I can agree with that,” she replies. Freya spots Hope behind an easel in her own private corner. She cautiously approaches, knitting her fingers as she takes a look at the image of the bustling celebration full of poppy water colors. “Impressive. Your father might actually be envious when he sees the finished product.”

Hope turns to her dejectedly. “Thanks. Sometimes he emails me his newest work, literal masterpieces.” She rolls her eyes at the thought. “I recreated a few to practice his technique but I could never come up with something like that on my own.” Freya tilts her head empathetically. “Hope. I get how hard it is to be denied a father you adore. Missing the ones you love most in this world can be devastating but I promise you that this isn’t forever,” she attests, shaking her head. “We’re gonna fix it okay?”

“I know that you mean it, Aunt Freya. You’ve always fought for family. But you’ve also lived for a thousand years and probably will for a thousand more. Six years is a blink of an eye to you.” Freya purses her lips, unsure of how to respond to that truth. Hope sets her brush down on the easel. “I’m gonna take a break and go get some more paint. Excuse me.” She quietly passes the blonde to exit the balcony.

* * *

 

A burly man in a suit waits by a black sedan as Sharon hands Stuart a green, beaded necklace. “Here. Between your beefed up security and my protection spell no one is a threat to you,” the witch assures. “I have to admit that does make me feel a lot better so thank you,” the human retorts. Sharon tilts her head keenly. “So you really believe that wolves are behind this,” she inquires.

“Yes. Unfortunately I have no choice but to believe it has everything to do with the men of the Raven Society. I received backlash from those opposed to my more recent alliances.”

“I’m sorry that you’re in this position.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself. A report has been filed with the police so I will leave them to their work for now. In other news, I’m happy to hear you’re coming out in support of Miss Bordeaux despite your absence. This city needs more powerful statements to challenge the vicious brotherhoods that plague our streets.”

“I just want what’s best for the people. That means allowing Kayla to transition into her role as the Queen.”

Stuart nods appropriately. “If I might ask, is your new partner there essential for that mission?”

“She’s not my partner, more of a convenience for today. But I won’t hold you up any longer, Mr. Ferguson.”

“Goodbye, Miss Vance. And thank you once again.”

The bodyguard opens the back door of the sedan allowing Stuart to slip inside. Sharon walks over to Lauren who’s crouching next to a vandalized silver car. “Has the Caped Crusader made any interesting discoveries,” the witch inquires. The doctor stands up while looking at her phone. “Just one banged up Cadillac and a Shakespearean quote,” she retorts.

“I can always try to get into evidence. Of course that might be a little difficult now that I’m not the Queen of New Orleans.”

Lauren finally peers up at Sharon with an encouraging smile. “Who says? You can try the police evidence if you want but they’re blind to supernatural business. I think I have everything I need so we can go back to my place and run some tests,” she offers. Sharon bites her lip hesitantly before nodding. “If you actually think this could help,” she agrees. Lauren nods confidently.

“Perk up. We still have that severed hand to take a gander at.”

* * *

 

Upbeat partygoers wearing dazzling costumes, glitzy makeup, and embellished masks gyrate on the sidewalk. Hope slithers through them expertly and cuts into the Cauldron before revolving with an offensive stance. Jordan quickly raises her hands to yield. “Whoa there, hotshot. I come in peace,” she alleges. The tribrid puffs out a breath and lowers her hands signaling the hybrid to follow suit.

“Why are you following me? The whole point of leaving the compound was to be alone.”

“I wanted to talk but you were nowhere to be found. So I tracked you down before anyone else could realize that you snuck off.”

Jordan anxiously draws closer to Hope who stares at her in surprise. “Why would you do that? I thought we didn’t have to deal with each other,” the latter recounts. “Clearly I need to deal with myself for being a jerk. I was hoping I could start by telling you how unfair I’ve been lately,” the former expresses.

“I…think we could talk about that.”

Jordan offers a small smile to which Hope reciprocates. “Sorry girls but that talk is gonna have to wait,” a honeyed voice interrupts. The girls turn their attention to Rachel who’s standing a few feet away with an ornate rattle in her hand. The redhead begins shaking the instrument causing Jordan and Hope to clutch their heads in agony. Using her free hand she flings their bodies into a brick wall, knocking them unconscious.

* * *

 

“The army pays exceptionally well these days,” Sharon remarks, scanning the large study. Lauren backs away from the severed hand lying underneath a magnifying glass and places her tools down before cutting the lamp off. “You got me, I come from old money,” she jests, removing her white latex gloves. The two women turn to face each other head on.

“I don’t think so but still it makes me wonder. Owning a mansion in a fancy neighborhood and playing doctor by day, apparently Rousseau’s very own special forces expert by night…”

Lauren tilts her head slightly while studying Sharon. “I don’t know. I kinda think you don’t wonder much at all. Maybe you’re one of those all-seeing witches looking right through me and watching my every move.” She chortles as the witch parts her lips silently. “I enlisted straight out of high school and eventually found myself content with being an officer. 75th Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion. By the time my dues were paid I had seen a lot of things I couldn’t _un-see_ so I decided to go the opposite route and become a doctor. I originally wanted to treat kids but…”

She briefly looks down and shakes her head. “Helping to bring them into the world safely was the next best thing. I found out that I inherited a home from an ancestor which brought me to New Orleans. That’s about as far as the royalties go for me, your highness.” Sharon scoffs lightly while nodding to herself. “You _have_ realized that I’m not the Queen anymore right?”

“Sorry. I guess your fierce power moves are confusing me. For someone no longer sitting on the throne I don’t see you waving the white flag when it comes to duty. I respect that.”

Sharon licks her lips. “Police evidence is scarce as expected so…what are your results, doctor? Any ideas about who’s doing this,” she inquires. “Sure but you’re not gonna like it,” Lauren reclaims, stepping closer as the witch frowns. “For starters I was suspicious about the damage inflicted on Mr. Ferguson’s car. It looked a bit too…done up in my opinion, even if we consider the Werewolf Mafia angle. So, I collected some samples before taking pictures. No keratin fragments, tissue, or even a distinct pattern in the claw markings. Just raging wolfman damage magically inflicted on a car with zero indication of an actual raging wolfman touching it. Then the severed hand, here’s the kicker. It was a very clean cut, cauterized and consistent with a standard enchanted athame.”

“A witch is doing this. But why,” Sharon questions fixedly.

“ _That_ is the question.”

* * *

 

Jordan stirs, rocking her head against the wall behind her. She blinks her heavy eyelids open to see Hope gazing at her from across the ramshackle room, manacles clutching her wrists. She impulsively lunges forward but is restricted by her own chains. “Hope,” she calls out. “I’m okay. Just stay calm, you’re bleeding pretty badly,” Hope notifies. Jordan grits her teeth, head aching as she slumps back against the wall. “I think I can break these chains if I concentrate hard enough. Everyone around here seems to think I’m all-powerful,” Hope remarks.

“Let me guess, it’s the tribrid-firstborn magic?”

“It’s worth a shot and there’s no other way, Jordan.”

“I’m afraid there’s no way out of this at all,” Rachel declares while marching into the room. She halts in the center of the salt circle and crouches down to place a hand on the red skull stake anchoring the chains. “Tribrid magic, hybrid magic. Not even powerful Mikaelson witch magic can destroy this seal.”

“Why are you doing this? Have you lost your mind or what?”

Rachel motions her head to Jordan. “You’re going to be the one asking a _lot_ of questions aren’t you?” The teen narrows her eyes inciting the shopkeeper to stand up. “Well, maybe you should ask your vicious aunt when you get a chance. Or _not_. Even if you could see her again I’d expect her to cover up her crimes with lies and excuses,” the latter claims. “What are you even talking about,” Hope asks. Rachel turns her head to the girl with a scowl. “I’m talking about my death at Freya Mikaelson’s hands. Today she’s finally going to pay for it.” Jordan and Hope widen their eyes.

* * *

 

“How’s the detective work coming along?” Lauren saunters into the living room where Sharon is perched on the floral sofa scrolling through a laptop. The witch peers up at the glass being offered to her and shakes her head negatively. “No thanks, I don’t drink on the job.” Lauren lifts the glass to her lips while plopping down on the sofa. “Fierce determination, got it.”

“A body was found by a drunk tourist, one of Paige’s high-ranking men. I had a friend send me the crime scene photos.”

Sharon turns the laptop to Lauren who leans in to take a look. Onscreen a leather jacket clad man lies sprawled out in an alleyway. “Alright, gruesome job,” Lauren comments. “Yeah,” Sharon agrees. “Severed hand and a slit throat.” She clicks on a close-up image of the man’s head displaying an orangish-red stitch-like pattern across his neck. Green eyes narrow at the screen.

“Interesting wound there,” Lauren points out. Sharon nods before tapping a finger on it. “Exactly. A ceremonial blade was used for the crime and I happen to know specifically what type causes a wound like that,” she decrees. Her partner looks at her critically.

* * *

 

Sharon and Lauren enter a convenience store, instantly catching the eye of a pretty woman behind the checkout counter. “Wow. Sharon Vance on this side of the river? Welcome to Freeville Pantry,” the latter greets, beaming. The two women approach her with polite smiles. “Hi. I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve stepped foot in Algiers,” Sharon admits. The store owner bobs her head.

“Not a problem. What can I do for you today?”

“Well since you asked, you wouldn’t happen to be Laetitia Fabré would you?”

The woman’s expression shrinks a bit. “Yes, I am. Should I be worried about this surprise visit,” she questions. “That’s entirely up to you. A man was murdered today, and the weapon used was a rare athame historically toted by your family members. I have reason to suspect that…” Laetitia shakes her head furiously. “No. No one in my family could be involved in a murder let alone capable of the act. It’s just me and my father around these days. He keeps our heirlooms locked up tight and so do I.” Sharon raises her hands up cautiously.

“Fair enough. Miss Fabré, my intention is not to accuse you of a crime you didn’t commit. I only want to find the person responsible before anyone else gets hurt.”

She waits patiently as the store owner relaxes and finally drops her hands. “Now. Are you sure no one else could’ve gotten their hands on a blade? Maybe someone who knows your family well?” Laetitia promptly shakes her head. “We don’t go _toting_ sacrificial blades around alright? Look, I have just one here. Hold on.” She disappears into the back room leaving Sharon and Lauren alone. After some time she reemerges with a silver lockbox in her hands and rests it on top of the counter.

“It belonged to my Aunt Lenore, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it after she passed.” She proceeds to dial in the combination and opens the box to discover emptiness inside. “This can’t be right.” She shakes her head while peering up at her visitors. “It’s gone but only two people have ever known the code. My aunt and I.” Sharon and Lauren analyze Laetitia silently.

* * *

 

Jordan and Hope pucker their brows at Rachel. “You’re not making any sense, Rachel. One, you’re alive. Two, my aunt would never kill you,” the former states. “Well we can’t promise that now,” the tribrid remarks. “I think it’s about time we get acquainted. From now on you’ll be calling me Cassie. Your sarcastic friend Rachel was kind enough to lend me her vessel,” their captor broadcasts. “So you’re some angry witch from my aunt’s past. Was bodysnatching an innocent person necessary,” Hope questions.

“Yes, actually it was. Thanks to her I’ve spent my days suffering in hell as a pathetic demon. Kinda need a corporeal form to get revenge don’t I?”

Cassie tramps over to Hope, eyes shifting to pure darkness. “And what better body to inhabit than a skillful witch body?” Hope grimaces while concentrating her magic and slams her fists down aggressively. Cassie waves a hand to tighten the girl’s chains causing her to hunch forward. “I’ve gotta admit, I’ve missed this,” she muses out loud with a sinister laugh.

“Get away from her, psycho!”

Cassie whips around with a deadly expression. “Oh you have no idea.” She gestures a hand to shove Jordan back into the wall before closing in on her throat. “But I wasn’t always a psycho. Circumstance made me this way, brave Jordan.” The hybrid grasps her neck, unable to breathe air under the merciless telekinetic hold.

“Stop it! We get it okay,” Hope yells out.

Cassie allows her eyes to return to their normal cerulean hue and drops her hand before exhaling. “You want revenge for what Aunt Freya did to you,” Hope finishes. “More than that. I want _justice_ for what your entire family has done to countless victims,” Cassie proclaims, slowly turning to face the girl. “Innocent people turned into meaningless casualties, all in the name of _family_. The name you carry like a badge of honor.” Hope stares back at the demon anxiously.

* * *

 

Laetitia sits with her head in her hands while Sharon and Lauren stand in front of her. “All of this is overwhelming but giving us anything right now would help,” the doctor speaks calmly. The witch crouches down. “Hey. I understand how hard this is, but we need you to think real hard okay? Are you sure that no one else knows that combination,” she questions. Laetitia drops her hands and nods while sniffling. “Positive. When I was growing up my aunt taught me everything. She even wanted us to run this place together until my father moved me away. When we finally got back it was too late. She had magically vanished. We tried everything, every spell but after awhile my father and I decided to put her memory to rest. All I had left of her was Freeville.”

Sharon remains quiet, providing an empathetic gaze as more tears build in Laetitia’s narrow eyes. “You know what she used to always say,” the store owner asks, smiling painfully. “Keep your chin up, girl. It ain’t hard to tell that you can handle anything that comes your way.” Suddenly, the color rushes from her features. Both Sharon and Lauren catch the abrupt change in her demeanor.

“Miss Fabré,” the doctor addresses.

“Oh my god,” Laetitia breathes, shell-shocked.

“What,” Sharon asks.

Laetitia licks her lips tensely. “There was a woman here earlier, never seen her in my life. She was kinda strange, but something was familiar about her. I was a little moody, so I admit my service could’ve been better. Still, she was very patient. And before she left she told me to keep my chin up because whatever I was going through…she could tell that I would handle my business and push through it.” Sharon tilts her head as an eerie chill runs up her spine. “Do you have any working cameras?” Laetitia nods quickly. “Yeah. Just the one here up front,” she informs.

“We’re gonna have to see that footage,” Lauren requests urgently.

* * *

 

The merry street crowd carries on drunkenly as Sharon and Lauren maneuver through them. “We can officially add another body to the list. Ferguson’s business partner was discovered without a tongue,” the witch notifies, staring at her phone. “Did a cat get it or a possessed witch,” the doctor quips. “Time to find out. Meet Alicia Blackman. Former Garden District witch, current owner of the Jardin Gris, and now a potential spree murderer,” Sharon states. “What do you think? Beloved auntie back from the dead and inhabiting bodies to sacrifice wolves,” Lauren inquires.

“Still no motive but I can’t say I would be surprised. You have no idea how complicated things can get in this city.”

“Sure I do. It’s a complicated world once you step out of the mundane box.”

Sharon stops in front of Jardin Gris to give Lauren an austere look. “Trust me, there are things out there that even you don’t understand. If Aunt Lenore is really back from the great beyond she won’t be easy to handle. I need you to follow my lead. Don’t try to play the hero.” Lauren summons a childlike grin. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were worried about my safety. I must be growing on you.” Sharon purses her lips before moving to open the entrance door. Her partner follows and they vigilantly scan the empty shop.

“It’s a little too quiet. Not the best sign if I’m honest.”

Sharon spots an athame on the checkout counter and heads over to pick it up. “Our murder weapon just lying out in the open unattended. I’m gonna have to agree.” She launches the blade, skillfully pinning a newly materialized Alicia to a wall by the hand. With her free hand, Alicia sends Sharon flying into some perches causing items to tumble onto the floor.

“Sharon!”

Lauren races to assist Sharon as Alicia yanks the blade from her palm and strides towards them. Alicia waves a hand to fling Sharon into a shelf before swinging at Lauren who ducks and grabs her forearm to knee her in the gut. They begin wrestling with the athame. “Méduser!” Lauren becomes disoriented and Alicia stabs her in the abdomen before twisting the blade deeper.

“Lenore!”

The suspect freezes allowing Lauren to jab her in the face. She falls to the floor and Lauren stumbles a bit until Sharon hastily comes over to steady her. “Well I guess we got that answer on the possession thing. Good work calling her out,” the doctor quips. “I told you not to play the damn hero,” the witch reprimands while checking the stab wound.

“Hey.”

Lauren rests her hands on top of Sharon’s as their eyes meet. “I wasn’t gonna let you have all the fun. I’m okay,” the former reassures. A beat of silence passes between them. “Well nice right hook,” the latter retorts, earning a smirk. “Thought you might like it.” They both look down at Lenore stretched out on the floor before exhaling.

* * *

 

In the storage room, Lenore bows her head while bound to a chair. Sharon stands over the demon with her arms folded. “Attacking an official, wounding a civilian. I can’t even call it your first offense when the list just keeps on growing,” she states. “You attacked first. I believe it’s called _self-defense_ ,” Lenore retorts plainly. Sharon laughs humorlessly. “Alright, let’s go with that. You’re a Ken. I’m assuming you’ve recently made your way to earth?” Lenore slowly lifts her head. “How do you know that,” she asks, surprised.

“Lucky guess. Why did you kill two werewolves and spend the day shipping their body parts to leaders?”

“I haven’t killed anyone, though I’ve been tempted once or twice.”

“You’re a demon. If you’re gonna lie to me then you better come more convincing than that.”

Lenore leans forward with a piercing stare. “It’s best you refrain from accusing a very fed up demon. I jumped into this body for one purpose and it wasn’t to kill wolves. Believe me, after being trapped in hell as long as I have you find productive things to do with your time.” Sharon drops her arms and takes a step closer. “Okay then. What is that purpose of yours,” she inquires.

“To live again! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Pain! Endless pain! All because of a family feud that had nothing to do with me. And all this time I’ve missed out on living my life with my own loved ones. There’s a full moon tonight. I thought that if I could cause a little riff raff among the wolves, I could channel enough raw energy to reconstruct my original body. The spirit of a true blood Algiers witch doesn’t need to drown in this guilty Garden District conscience I’ll tell you that. I don’t belong in here.”

“So you severed one man’s hand and another man’s tongue with your sacrificial blade, but I’m supposed to believe you draw the line at murder?”

“Honestly, I don’t care _what_ you believe. The blade is for my sacrificial offering of _starlings_ tonight. Thanks to a merciless Mikaelson witch my original body was reduced to such creatures, so I plan to offer them for renewal. Yes, I’ve persuaded a few wolves to jump each other but I also made sure to leave them alive. If you’re looking for a killer borrowing hands and tongues then you haven’t found them.”

Sharon scrutinizes Lenore for a moment. “Wherever there’s one Wanderer out the window more are sure to follow. Did anyone else know about your plan,” she asks. The demon nods cooperatively. “I didn’t come alone, far from it actually. Something is changing in the Twilight Dimension; more spirits are fleeing each day. Given the approaching full moon we didn’t want to miss our chance.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You might have plenty more to worry about considering New Orleans’s bloody past. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Quarter was crawling with tortured souls by nightfall. As for my plan, a girl named Cassie is the only one who ever took an interest and offered to help. She knows a thing or two about getting caught in a Mikaelson hell storm.” Sharon tilts her head attentively. “I get the feeling she’s also inhabiting a body that isn’t her own,” she remarks. Lenore shrugs nonchalantly.

* * *

 

“Okay, I’ve called you at least a thousand times already. You’re still not picking up and I’m becoming increasingly concerned, young lady. Just call me back alright? And no getting into trouble with Hope.”

Keelin ends the voice message with a sigh and lowers the phone from her ear. Hayley saunters into Jordan’s bedroom. “Any luck finding two sneaky teenagers,” she asks. Keelin spins around before shaking her head. “It’s not like Jordan to go off somewhere without asking first. I’m starting to get a bad feeling.” Hayley tilts her head softly. “Well, it’s just like Hope. If I know my daughter she’s the one being dragged back here by Jordan. There’s a parade going on from Esplanade to Jackson Square. If they’re still not here when another hour rolls around we’ll tag team them.”

“Freya! Keelin! Preferably Freya!”

Keelin and Hayley furrow their brows at each other before exiting the bedroom. As they come up to the third-floor balcony they look down to see Sharon striding into the courtyard tugging Lenore along by a chain. “Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sharon halts her trek to peer up at the pair.

“I realize this is ridiculously short notice, but I need interrogation assistance. My special forces partner is in the hospital and this is a Mikaelson specialty.”

* * *

 

Freya, Keelin, Hayley, and Sharon stand around the dungeon while Lenore sits in the white boundary. “Is showing up unannounced with random prisoners gonna be your new thing now,” the Viking queries. “I didn’t plan on it but who knows. Long story short, hell is cracking wide open and that’s far from a metaphor. Alicia here is possessed by a demon named Lenore and she has a friend who might be a murderer on the loose. But she won’t tell me what body this Cassie girl is inhabiting,” Sharon explains. Freya and Hayley gape at her in shock.

“Did you just say Lenore,” the brunette asks. “And a girl named Cassie? Demons possessing bodies,” the blonde adds. “Yeah. Lenore mentioned the Mikaelson hell storm they both got caught in when they were alive,” Sharon confirms. Keelin looks between the women and frowns, shaking her head. “Okay, obviously I’m missing something here. Who are these people? And hell is real?”

Freya swallows inaudibly while casting her anxious gaze on her wife. “Years ago, Esther tried to destroy my siblings for the umpteenth time. She almost managed to do so by possessing unsuspecting witches. Both Cassie and Lenore were victims of her work…victims I happened to murder.” Keelin is struck by the revelation. “You killed a girl and never told me,” she questions straightaway. “Only to protect my sister,” Freya asserts, shaking her head. “Cassie was troubled after Esther’s possession. Her coven sent her away to the same madhouse Kol dropped Rebekah in to settle a petty score. She turned on my sister to appease the Kindred.”

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of during war, Keelin. She was protecting family,” Hayley affirms.

Keelin nods subtly and folds her arms as she pieces things together. “And what about Lenore? Who did she hurt?” Freya licks her lips while boring into chestnut eyes. “My reunion with my mother was one forced by Klaus to save Rebekah. A thousand years of anger and resentment got the best of me,” she starts. Hayley sighs knowingly and Sharon watches closely as Keelin tilts her head.

“So, I confronted Esther about her failure as my mother and then I turned her into a flock of dying birds.”

“Only it wasn’t just Esther who was destroyed in the process. She wrote my death sentence when she possessed my body, but you sealed it by sending me to hell. It didn’t matter that I was an innocent store owner with family and friends of my own. Looks like my biggest mistake was ever helping yours right, Hayley?”

Everyone turns to regard Lenore slumped against the large stone behind her. Her eyes flicker into a deep onyx, successfully unsettling them. Sharon clears her throat. “So…yeah. Hell is very real which means we have to find Cassie and stop her killing spree. I was also hoping we could prepare some protection spells before New Orleans becomes the City of the Dead.”

Freya nods accordingly. “I’ve never actually encountered a demon, but I have seen ancient cleansing spells that repel malevolent spirits. Of course conjuring one of that magnitude will require a lot of power.” Sharon nods with understanding. “Crazy magic for a city-wide protection spell. We have to do this before the full moon reaches it’s apex. Channel me and my demonic prisoner.” Freya gazes at her seriously. “I’m gonna need more like a coven to pull this off,” she states before tilting her head. “Actually, I’m gonna need _my_ coven. Mikaelson firstborns are inherently powerful.”

“I’ll wake Mikaela up, but Jordan and Hope are still gone. They’re not answering their phones.”

One by one the women stiffen with realization. “Cassie,” Freya utters. Sharon breezes past her to crouch down in front of Lenore. “Does your unstable friend own a matching sacrificial blade,” she questions. The demon knits her brows. “I…I suppose it’s possible. My family popularized that athame, but it wasn’t exclusively ours. It’s old school, ancient magic. And her father’s bloodline goes way back. She’s a Palmerin, medieval worshippers of sacrifice.” She finally comprehends her train of words and throws her head back in disbelief. “That evil little bitch preyed on my compassion.”

“She used your plan with the wolves to frame you and the distraction bought her time for her true goal.” Sharon turns her head to Freya, Keelin, and Hayley. “We have to find Cassie now. She’s planning on sacrificing your girls tonight.”

* * *

 

Cassie is kneeling in front of Jordan while using a thumb to paint an obscure symbol on her forehead. “You know, it’s strange.” She dips her fingers in a small jar of grey ash before continuing her work on the scowling girl. “I was about your age when I died. Seems so long ago. Your friend over there was just a miracle baby which puts you at about preschool age. Wow, time really does fly when you’re having fun huh? And I’ve had plenty of it to watch over the world as a forgotten pawn. What I learned is that after a _while_ everything becomes a bit too predictable. Once you recognize the patterns you can foresee just about anything.” Jordan gestures her chin defiantly. “Yeah, like you coming back for revenge over something that happened a million years ago?”

Cassie smirks, unfazed. “Of course. As well as weak human leaders aligning with temperamental wolves, temperamental wolves so easily compelled to fight their own to the death. A little hybrid girl that has everything and still sees no purpose in her miserable life,” she gabs before tilting her head. “I’m actually glad I didn’t have to live through the teenaged angst. Watching you has made me cringe one time too many.”

“Don’t listen to her, Jordan. She’s literally a demon. Her only purpose is to hurt people.”

Cassie rises to face Hope. “Wrong. My purpose is to take the power back. The power that people like your family members get off on. Your father is a historical mass murderer, right along with your psychotic uncles. Your aunts prove time and time again that they can be just as ruthless and cruel. And the woman that started it all, your late grandmother? Well she practically fried my brain just because she could, but I guess that’s no big deal.” Hope tilts her head, sympathetic.

“They’ve done bad things, a _lot_ of bad things. But we don’t have to suffer for that. Just let us go, Cassie. _Please_.”

“I’m sorry Hope but sometimes the innocent have to suffer the consequences of the guilty. Look at me. My parents were more than willing to offer my life for power. That was their sacrifice and the consequence was losing their only daughter forever. My brother lost a sister and ran away when he learned the truth. He’s out there all alone in this world while my parents still struggle to keep a home. And me, I’ve lost the ability to lose anything else at this point. Everyone has to face the inevitable consequences of our actions. Aunt Freya’s consequence is having to live with the fact that she sacrificed her own nieces due to great misdeeds.”

Hope gulps while staring at Cassie’s resolute features.

* * *

 

In the study, Lenore spreads a map across the desk while Hayley spectates. “I should’ve known better than to trust a demon,” the former rants. “Well, it takes one to know one,” the latter quips, receiving an unamused look. “So…this is weirdly nostalgic. The werewolf-turned-hybrid mother requiring help from the half-dead Algiers witch.”

“I remember you being the witch-rescuer. Either way it looks like I’m dead for good if I don’t find this girl. Blood please.”

Hayley bites into her wrist and allows her blood to dribble onto the map. “Wherever your daughter is, Cassie is sure to be. Trouver la cible, trouver la cible.” Lenore continues chanting and Hayley watches her blood forming into a trail. Downstairs, Sharon paces into the courtyard displaying two necklaces in her hand. “I have the talismans. We should be able to channel their magic.”

She stops next to Keelin who unfolds her arms. “Good. Hopefully, the alterations I’ve made to Dahlia’s work will hold up. Binding a widespread protection spell to this totem is a first,” Freya remarks. She places the finishing touches on a hand-carved steer skull before turning to an alert Mikaela. “Alright, baby girl. The totem is ready. I just need you to take my hands…” She grips the child’s hands and squeezes them reassuringly.

“And repeat after me okay?”

“This will protect everyone from the bad things?”

Freya nods as confirmation. “Exactly. We’re gonna protect everyone from the bad things,” she reaffirms. Mikaela nods correspondingly. “Okay, Mama. I’m ready,” she declares. Freya breathes in deeply. “Verja heimili vi, Verja heimili vi.” Mikaela echoes the chanting and the eye sockets of the steer skull begin glowing. A white light emits from the totem, pulsating as it sweeps the courtyard in a ferocious whirlwind.  “Hold on okay? You’re doing great!” Mikaela nods as her curls blow around wildly. Freya turns her head to Sharon and gestures her chin, signaling the leader to grip their joined hands. Sharon exhales feeling the intense power flowing through her as Freya focuses on channeling the additional magic. The windstorm and blinding light abruptly cease.

Keelin steps forward in anticipation. “Did it work,” she inquires. Freya looks at her, a little short of breath. “It worked. No more spirits will be able to come or harm the living. New Orleans is officially off limits.” The couple shares a proud grin. Upstairs, Hayley is holding a panting Lenore up in front of the desk. “Freya’s spell. Is it killing you,” the hybrid asks. “Doesn’t work like that. Protection spells are prevention measures. This body is gonna need to be cleansed and purified to expel my spirit, but any light magic still hurts like you wouldn’t believe,” the demon reports. She lifts her burnt palms up to examine them as concerned green eyes observe. “I’ll cook up an herbal remedy, you go get your daughter back. She’s at the Dowager Fauline Cottage.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me by putting Cassie out of her misery.”

* * *

 

“J’offre un grand sacrifice. Donne moi de la force.”

Cassie concentrates in the middle of the salt circle as Jordan stares at Hope anxiously. “What I said yesterday wasn’t right. I shot you down, put my feelings above yours. I rejected you because I was scared. I _am_ scared, all the time.” The younger girl gazes at the hybrid unexpectantly. “I get it. I’m always scared too. Scared for my family, scared about what I could become,” she admits, earning a look of regret. “You’re a good person, Hope. I see how you look out for Mikaela and I appreciate you for even thinking of me as family too. I’m just so used to losing things and being rejected that I guess sometimes…I try to beat the universe to it. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I messed up and now we’re about to be sacrificed because of that.”

Hope shakes her head in opposition. “No, Jordan. This isn’t your fault. I left the compound on my own, but it doesn’t matter because we’re gonna get out of this alive. Our family will come for us okay?” Cassie raises her hands up to the ceiling and opens her eyes to discover burnt palms. Distraught, she brings them down to inspect them before a lightbulb suddenly explodes. “What is this?” Jordan and Hope share an uneasy look, weary of the outburst. Cassie whirls around as her awareness is stimulated. “I guess you’re right, miracle baby. I sense a rescue party on the property.”

She begins marching out of the room. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

Outside, the trio of women hike up to the daunting house. “Never did I ever think I’d be fighting demons that aren’t figurative,” Sharon remarks. “Who would’ve thought they’d be so much easier to deal with when they’re all in your head. What’s the plan,” Hayley queries. “According to Freya, demons within city limits can’t harm the living. So, we distract Cassie while Sharon breaks the sacrificial circle to free the girls,” Keelin instructs. “Sounds like an easy enough plan,” Hayley comments. Cassie storms through the front doors and settles on the porch glaring.

“What have you done,” she rumbles.

Hayley instantly recognizes the scorches on the demon’s palms. “Those burns on her hands, they’re just like Lenore’s after Freya enacted the spell. She’s weak and this is our best chance to put her down.” She hastily moves forward but Sharon holds an arm out to stop her. “If you destroy Rachel’s body, you kill her and free Cassie. Then you’re back to square one with a vengeful demon running wild and another innocent casualty,” the witch states. “She’s right. This is a capture and exorcism job,” Keelin agrees. Hayley stares at the pair for a moment.

“I’ll just have to make it work then.”

She zips onto the porch and grips the demon’s neck. “Blunt trauma or asphyxiation?” Cassie grins deviously. “Protection spell against demons to protect the living,” she inquires knowingly. Hayley shudders at a sharp pain in her chest and looks down to find a handle protruding from it. “Ironic how you’re more dead than I am at the moment.” Hayley drops to her knees while scowling up at Cassie. “I’m gonna make you wish you never came back to earth,” she growls. The demon tilts her head. “That’s enough threats.” She rips the athame out of Hayley’s heart and motions her head, swiftly snapping the hybrid’s neck. After Hayley falls unconscious Keelin is revealed to be standing behind her. “Blunt trauma it is.” Keelin slams Cassie’s head into the wall, knocking her out cold.

Sharon comes up and bends over to retrieve the athame lying on the porch. “She’ll be needing your doctor skills later,” she quips. Keelin gets down on her knees beside Hayley’s body before peering up at the witch. “Go get the girls. I’ll check Hayley out.” Sharon nods affirmatively and hurries into the house. “Jordan? Hope,” she calls out. “We’re in here,” Hope calls back. Following her voice, Sharon steps into the room on her right and spots the girls in the adjacent room before rushing over to them. She makes a quick note of the dark symbols on their foreheads.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Something went wrong with the ritual. I guess that was all you.”

“Well I can’t take your Aunt Freya’s credit. More help is just outside so I’m gonna get you out.”

Sharon looks between the two girls nodding quickly before holding her hand up and slicing into her open palm. She allows her blood to drip onto the salt boundary and watches the circle fizzling away. Then she steps in to help Hope to her feet first. “Cassie said that no magic could destroy the seal,” the tribrid apprises.

“We’ll just have to use hybrid strength.”

Hope and Sharon turn their heads to discover a blood-stained Hayley and Keelin. The hybrid dashes to the red skull stake, crushing it before turning to her daughter. “Mom.” Sharon steps aside as Hayley breaks the shackles around Hope’s wrists and embraces her tightly. “I’m sorry for sneaking out,” the teen cries. “Shh. It’s okay, sweetie. You’re safe now,” her mother coos while petting her hair.

The other two adults hasten over to the older girl. “Hey, I’m here. Jordan.” Keelin holds Jordan’s face in her hands while inspecting her heavy eyes. “I feel sick,” the hybrid whispers. Sharon notices the dried blood on her scalp. “I think she has a concussion, Keelin.” Keelin easily breaks the manacles and cradles Jordan in her arms. “Listen to me, baby. You can’t go to sleep just yet. Keep your eyes open for me okay?” She liberates her canines and bites her wrist before bringing it to the girl’s lips. “Keelin,” Sharon utters. “I heal in seconds and my blood revived Hayley in under five minutes. I have a feeling my hypothesis is correct.” Keelin smiles softly as Jordan’s eyelids gradually flutter open. “Hey there.” Sharon observes them while sighing in relief.

* * *

 

“In the meantime, Chip had helped Belle and Maurice escape from the cellar. When the Beast saw Belle, he grabbed Gaston by the throat. But his love for Belle had made him too human. He let Gaston go and looked at Belle. Without warning, Gaston stabbed the Beast in the back! The Beast roared. Gaston stepped back – and fell off the roof to his death. Wounded, the Beast gazed at Belle before he collapsed. She ran to him and held him in her arms. ‘No! Please! I love you!’ The rain began to fall gently. Slowly the Beast opened his eyes and in astonishment, he watched his paws change into hands. He held them out to Belle. ‘Belle, it’s me!’ Belle hesitated and then looked into his eyes. ‘It’s you!’ The Prince drew her close and kissed her. Then they watched happily as Cogsworth the wall clock, Lumiere the candle stand, Chip, Mrs. Potts, and all the other servants once again became human. True love had finally broken the spell, and everyone danced for joy.”

Mikaela shuts her book and peers up at Jordan who’s lying against the headboard. “I always love it when you read me that one,” the latter confesses. “Because it’s your favorite too. Do you want another snack now? Mommy said it makes you feel better,” the former relays. Jordan shakes her head. “No thanks. You know you don’t have to be extra nice to me. I’m fine, Nugget.”

“I know but I want to. I was kinda scared…”

Jordan lifts up her covers knowingly. “Well you don’t have to be. Hop in and chill with me for a bit.” Mikaela follows the instruction without a hitch and snuggles into her cousin before yawning. “Somebody’s tired.” Jordan chuckles while petting the child’s curls. A soft knock draws her attention to Hope standing in the doorway holding a blue mug.

“Aunt Freya said that Periwinkle tea should help.”

Jordan smiles appreciatively and Hope treads over to gift the drink to her before sitting on the bed. “I wanted to say thank you for coming after me today. I don’t know how things would’ve gone if I was alone,” the tribrid expresses. “I owed it to you to be there. Aunt Freya is my family so that makes you a part of it too. I just wish I would’ve accepted that sooner,” the hybrid admits.

“Hey. You’re not the only one with a lot on your mind. I know I invaded your personal space and basically pressured you into accepting me. It’s just that…I’m supposed to be the tribrid freak capable of ending the world, but no one stops to think about how their fear affects me. Growing up away from my family has made it harder but at least they’re still around. You have to go through this without a huge part of yours. I don’t think I could be as strong as you.”

“I’m not all that strong. I just got lucky enough to have Aunt Keelin fighting for me, just like she did today. I know that you were only trying to do the same so I’m gonna do that for you too. Always and forever right?”

“Always and forever,” Hope echoes, nodding.

Jordan places her hand on top of Hope’s, earning a hopeful grin as they exchange a promise. Keelin surveys them from the doorway and smiles faintly before heading to the study. When she enters the room she finds Freya stationed at her desk, flipping through a large grimoire. She comes up to plant a tender kiss on her cheek, obtaining the interest of vigilant green eyes.

“Hey. How’s Jordan?”

Keelin gently pets blonde locks. “She’s resting. You know exactly who’s standing guard and reading her bedtime stories,” she remarks. Freya provides a knowing nod. “Well, after everything she’s been through today she deserves the special treatment,” she affirms. “Hope is there for her too. I think all this craziness has brought them closer.”

“And what about us? Has…peeling back another layer of my past done the opposite of that?”

Keelin lowers onto her knees beside Freya. “I know where you’re going with this so just don’t okay? I’m not here to pass judgement,” she asserts, shaking her head. “I’m here to deal with this, for better or for worse because I honor our vows every day. I know how much your mother hurt you and I understand that you’ll do anything to protect family. I just thought I was done being in the dark.”

“You’re not in the dark. I’m not hiding that I have my fair share of demons and ghosts. Would knowing every face and every name make things easier?”

“No, it wouldn’t. But now we’re facing those demons whether you’ve locked them away or not, Freya. We almost lost our nieces to one of them today and your siblings have created their own monsters all over the world for centuries. If hell is really cracking wide open we need a united front. Family, friends, true allies. We can’t afford to keep making enemies.” Freya holds Keelin’s severe gaze.

In the dining room, Hayley is seated alone at the table while taking a swig of Jack Daniels. “All these fancy glasses and you settle on drinking straight from the bottle like a working man.” She turns her head to see Lenore spectating at the threshold. “You can take the Crescent out of the bayou but not the bayou out of the Crescent. I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought you would be…”

“Exorcized back to hell? Shredded into nothingness by a coven of Mikaelson witches?”

“With your family…actually. _Or_ I guess Sharon could’ve pulled some strings to imprison whatever demon form you got going on underneath that body.”

Lenore grins amusedly. “I hope to be reunited with my family soon. Freya offered to help reconstruct my original body. Apparently, she has a friend that might have the means to make it happen,” she informs. Hayley lifts the bottle in the air. “Well here’s to that. Do demons drink whiskey,” she inquires playfully. Lenore finally crosses the threshold and pulls a chair out beside her. “They do now,” she retorts. Hayley grins back as she offers the bottle to Lenore. “So tell me Crescent, did they teach you how to play Spades in the bayou?”

“Looks like I’m in for one hell of a night.”

* * *

 

Sharon quietly enters a hospital room where Lauren is lying back against a fluffy pillow. Tilting her head she slowly approaches the doctor smiling at the sight of her. “Well look at what rolled in tonight. Visiting a dear friend of yours?” Lauren sits up in bed as Sharon puts the vase of lilies on the side table. “I…just wanted to check up on your recuperation. Lenore is cleared of the crimes and being handled while the true perpetrator is facing an exorcism tomorrow. New Orleans is safe for now and I can’t deny that’s partly because of you so…thank you.”

“It was nothing. Protecting citizens is kinda my thing.”

Sharon finally offers a small smile. “How’s the war wound, ranger?” Lauren rolls her eyes and shakes her head before rolling up a sleeve. Dark spots are scattered on her bicep. “Bomb fragments from Iraq.” She peels her blanket back and lifts her gown to uncover a long, white scar on her thigh. “I got knifed in Somalia one time.” She twists to display a pinkish-purple blotch on her back.

“And this one is from a heated gunfight in Afghanistan.”

Sharon stares at the scar until Lauren tugs her gown down and faces her. “I can handle the price of impressing a queen. Trust me.” Honey eyes pour into emerald orbs before settling on the vase of flowers. “Just don’t go showing off next time alright.” Sharon redirects a stern gaze to Lauren while shaking her head. “I didn’t ask for a hardheaded knight,” she states, earning a smug smirk.

“Next time? So you do want to spend another day out on the town with me. I knew it.”

“Lauren.”

“I have to own up to something. I’ve kinda been researching you. Well, I googled and asked around.”

Sharon furrows her eyebrows. “Really? Why,” she questions in disbelief. Lauren clasps her hands in her lap. “Months ago I saw you at Mirage. Now I was incredibly drunk, and I don’t remember much of that night except for a couple of thrilling bad decisions but…I remember _you_ , looking at _me_ , looking at _you_ for the strangest three seconds of my life. And before I could question what it meant you were hauled off by security.”

“Not exactly an image I want to reminisce on but thanks.”

“It only intrigued me more. A woman of your stature raising a little hell in a nightclub. Scandalous badassery.”

“Scandalous stupidity. There’s a reason why I’m no longer queen.”

“A crown doesn’t make a queen, Sharon. I don’t know you personally, but I learned a lot by watching you today. You take charge and lead the way through the storm, you fight for your people. You care enough to risk your life for this city. Only one title comes to mind.”

Sharon stands awkwardly, unable to formulate words. Lauren opts to grab a cup of red Jell-O and holds it up. “I think you deserve to treat yourself if just for one night. My vote is reality TV and dessert.” Her companion supplies a half smile before accepting the snack. “As long as you quit calling me your highness.” Lauren raises her hands while chuckling softly. “Fair enough, Angel Eyes.” Sharon rolls her aforementioned peepers, finally allowing herself some laughter. A short, brunette nurse lurks in the hallway monitoring the pair through black eyes.


End file.
